


A Bitter Pill

by ciaconnaa



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7315228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciaconnaa/pseuds/ciaconnaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you think...you'll still want to be a cop? After all this?" Nick asks.</p>
<p>The heart rate monitor beeps steadily as she catches her reflection in the blank screen of her phone: broken, bloodied, bruised. She doesn't look like herself, doesn't feel like herself, and quite frankly, she doesn't know if she'll ever be herself again.</p>
<p>But she nods anyway, because she thinks that's what Judy Hopps would do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part one

She can’t hear a damn thing.

That’s the first thing Judy realizes when she comes to. There are nearly half a dozen doctors swarming in and out of her vision—two wolves, a porcupine, a koala, a leopard, and a fox. She feels herself being lifted, moved, pushed down on a gurney as they run her down white-walled hospital hallways when she realizes that the fox isn’t a doctor, it’s Nick. He’s angry—she can’t hear him but she can see, barely see, in the way his lips snarls over sharp canine teeth that he’s yelling. Her head hurts, dare she say _killing her_ (it probably is) as they try to push him back before wheeling her into what must be a trauma room.

Nick doesn’t move too far away—she can still see his ears coming in and out of her peripherals—but part of her wishes he would. She’s a mess, a painful mess, and no one should see her like this: not strangers, not doctors, not Nick. Judy screams, _she screams,_ but she can’t hear herself so it feels like they can’t _hear her_ so she screams _louder_ but they only give her sympathetic looks (Nick’s, the most heartbreaking of them all).

She’s gasping for breath, struggling to breathe when she sees an electric razor in one of the wolf's paws. They’re shaving her chest while the porcupine gets a needle and then before she knows it they’re making an incision and she’s being pricked and prodded and they stick a damn tube in but she still can’t _breathe._

The other wolf and the koala argue over her while the leopard holds up a slender finger to her eyes and moves it back and forth. She knows the drill and follows it back and forth and after a few tries the leopard tries to say something to her but as to what, she doesn’t know.

Finally the koala pushes the wolf away and leans over her. Judy catches a glimpse of Nick hovering before the leopard pushes him back and the koala reaches down with nimble fingers, grabs her jaw and yanks it _hard._

Her whole body convulses in pain and the leopard pushes her arching down back on the bed and she screams screams _screams_ as loud as she can. Everything hurts and she feels more poking and prodding and someone’s sticking needles and tubes into her chest but then breathing starts to feel a little more… normal. It hurts, like when she’s run too hard too quickly, but it still sorta feels the way breathing has always felt to her and she figures this is a sloth paced step to progress.

While the koala works on her jaw, the leopard moves down to her leg: mangled, twisted, bone poking out. The porcupine is busy with getting her what looks like to be a blood transfusion and the wolf is doing something to her lungs, perhaps. The leopard snaps her fingers and gestures for Nick, who comes over and holds down her leg and then there’s a push and a _snap—_

It’s another wave of excruciating pain and this time, she’s glad she can’t hear her own blood-curdling scream.

Judy sees Nick’s lip quiver and eyes gloss with tears before he allows one of the wolf's to escort him out of the room, replaced by yet another doctor—nurse, surgeon, whoever—that looks like a meerkat that practically jumps up on her hospital bed and gets in her face.

Judy’s eyes are wide and she tries not to blink because if she blinks she might not wake up again, or at least it feels that way. The meerkat says what she thinks is the same phrase over and over again but her vision is blurry and hazy and she can’t make out the words on his lips. He snaps his fingers and then the porcupine looks in her ears.

It seems they finally pick up on the fact that she can’t hear anything.

The meerkat gives some orders and then the world starts to fade. Judy’s eyes feel as droopy as her ears and she fights fights _fights_ to stay awake but they must have given her something, something to make her sleep and she’s screaming as best she can but she can’t make out any words, not even _no,_ not even _stop,_ because she feels so broken she might not wake up, God, if she closes her eyes…

Her eyes close anyway.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes again, she still can’t hear anything.

The swarm of doctors is gone, along with the gurney; she’s in a bed with fluffy pillows and a thick blanket. She looks down (her vision is better, less fuzzy, but things aren’t quite right) and notices her leg is in a cast, her other foot in a bandage, one arm in a sling, and the other one stuffed with tubes and IVs.

Her room is empty, save for a lot of flower arrangements, two empty pudding cups, and her fox cop of a partner sleeping on a chair on the other side of her generously big hospital room. Judy grunts and tries to get his attention, but it doesn’t work, so she opens her mouth to say _hi hey hello what’s happened to me—_

\--only to find she can’t open her mouth.

Her good arm, if she can call it that, reaches up to touch her mouth to find that someone has _screwed it shut._ She’s never had braces before but she knows they aren’t supposed to be this _bad_ and she starts to panic. Hoping its loud enough she grunts from the depths of her throat and luckily, it startles Nick awake.

His computer, which had been in his lap when he fell asleep, falls to the floor as he rushes to her side. Nick slaps the nurses’ button before he scrambles to her side and takes hold of her good paw, squeezing is gently, but firmly.

 _Calm Down,_ he mouths, or maybe says (Judy can’t tell). Over and over again, he tells her: _calm down, calm down, please, calm down._

But it’s too late. She’s having a full-fledged panic attack.

One of the doctors from earlier (how much earlier, she doesn’t know. Has she been asleep for hours? Days?) comes rushing in. He gets a pair of pliers and with a reluctant look, goes into her mouth and cuts cuts _cuts_ until her jaw snaps free in the most painful way possible.

It hurts so badly, but at least she can breathe. She tries to speak, to ask what’s happened, but the panic attack is too much for her battered body and she drifts back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The next time she wakes up, she hears the beeping of her own monitor.

This time Nick is awake, scribbling at a million different forms he has scattered on a spare chair and spread out in different piles on the floor. He’s sitting against the wall next to an outlet and his computer is up. Judy’s vision still isn’t 100% back, but she can see he has several different tabs and files open and the screen is amber, adjusted for night-time eyes.

She looks out her bedroom window and notices its dawn.

Judy tries to say something but finds that, once again, she cannot speak—those damn wires are in her mouth again. But she wants Nick’s attention so she grunts as loudly as she can before his head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise and relief, and he rushes to stand up (his joints pop in protest) to meet her by her bedside.

“Hey, there,” he says slowly, but not loudly. He points to his own ears. “Can you hear me?”

Judy nods, and Nick smiles in relief.

“That’s good. They said your hearing would be back soon, but this is earlier than they expected. You just might be back on your feet in no time.”

She has a hard time believing that, especially considering her damn _mouth._ Disgruntled, she grunts again and points to her face, demanding an answer.

Nick’s smile falls. “Your jaw was broken, so it has to be wired shut for a while so it can heal,” he explains. “You woke up two days ago and you were panicking and you couldn’t breathe so they cut the wires, but they had to rewire it again. I’m sorry, but it has to stay.”

She whines, a little noise from the back of her throat, before she slumps a little in her bed. Her eyes scan the room and eventually she snaps her fingers to where Nick’s things are jumbled in the corner. He makes a few guesses as to what she wants before he realizes the noise she’s making sounds vaguely like _phone,_ and he paws it off to her.

She types in his code and immediately opens the camera app and turns the front camera on just so she can _see_ the damage—

Judy thinks she might have screamed if she weren’t so tired of it.

God, she looks _awful._ Her eyes, both of them, are bloodshot with black and blue shiners. Her nose is scarred and covered in a crusty scab. There’s a laceration on her cheek and one of her ears has a nasty rip in it—practically a whole chunk—and she knows it won’t heal, that it’ll be ripped like that forever and—

“Okay,” Nick sighs, taking the phone from her. “Staring at yourself isn’t going to keep you in good spirits. You look like hell, I could have told you that.”

Judy glares as best she can before she holds out her paw, demanding for the phone. Nick looks reluctant before she mimes out the act of texting and he gives in with a heavy sigh and opens the new message app before handing over the phone.

 _What’s the damage?_ She types out.

“Uhhh,” Nick puffs air into his cheeks before he lets out a long sigh before he walks over to the computer by her bed. “Skull fracture, concussion—that’s why your head probably kills, I’m sure—, temporary hearing loss, broken arm, broken toes, _real_ broken leg, and of course, the jaw.”

Judy just stares.

“We got him,” Nick whispers. “The bear that tossed you like a rag doll. We…I got him.”

Judy blinks once, twice, before she types out something else:

_Did you kill him?_

Nick reads her text but when he lifts his head, he can’t quite meet her eyes. “I wanted to,” he finally admits. “But no. I didn’t.”

Something strange tugs at her heart, something she can’t quite define, but she pushes the feeling away. It’s easy enough considering how much pain she’s in.

 “Your parents will be here soon,” Nick says in way of a subject change. “Also, if anyone asks: I’m your husband. It’s the only way I could get anyone to let me stay. So play along,” he winks, and even though Judy isn’t in much of a mood to be cheered up, she can’t help but feel a little bit better because of him.

Judy’s eyes flicker to the door and she sighs. Her parents are going to go bonkers when they see her and she’s starting to wish that the hearing would go away again, just so she doesn’t have to hear their worried screeches and high pitched cries. As Nick would say: bunnies, so emotional.

“You get through this, okay?” Nick whispers and she looks back up at him when she feels his ever so gentle touch to one of her ears. “I know it hurts, but you can do it. You just have to stay strong. Okay?”

It isn’t until Nick wipes away her tears from her cheeks does Judy realize she’s been crying.

“I know it hurts,” he says again, voice thick with emotion, and she swears he might cry too.  “I’m so sorry, Judy. I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop this.”

He doesn't call her _Carrots_ or _Fluff_ or _Rabbit_ ; he uses her full name, which means he's being serious, and serious isn't a good look on him. She wants to tell him not to cry, not to worry but she can’t; so she settles for watching Nick press the button on her PCA.

“Get some rest,” he whispers.

Judy _thinks_ she feels him kiss her between the ears before she falls asleep.


	2. part two

When she wakes again, Nick is gone and Chief Bogo has replaced him.

He doesn’t say anything for a long while. He simply leans against her door and _looks_ at her, his expression unreadable. She swears he’s about to reach into his pocket and start reading a damn book when he heaves a heavy sigh and says:

“I’m so used to you running your mouth.”

Judy glares— _she_ knows that _he_ knows just what all her injuries are, including the wired jaw. He snorts and rolls his eyes before he pulls himself off the door and comes to stand at the end of her bed.

“Your parents will be here in a moment,” he says, as if that’s not terrifying, as if that’s not the worst thing for her health at this point in time. “Took a bit to find their numbers but we finally got tech support to fix your phone and find their contact information so—“ this time he really _does_ reach into his pocket, but instead of a book he hands Judy her phone.

She immediately starts typing before she flips her phone and shows her boss. _Where’s Nick?_

“I made Wilde go home and take a shower. He’s going to stop by the station and do a bit of work before he comes back.”

Judy doesn’t waste any time. _About the attack?_

“That’s his work to worry about, not yours. You just focus on getting out of here.”

She types furiously again. _Show me my charts._

Bogo glances at the computer. “Haven’t they told you?”

Nick sugar-coated it, or at least left stuff out. She knows. _I_ _want to see it myself._

He mumbles something she doesn’t catch before he turns the mounted monitor her way. His hoof swipes through all her charted bloodwork, x-rays, and scans.

“It’s mostly medical jargon neither of us can understand,” Bogo says in his Chief Voice. “However, I do know you have throat problems due to the chokehold that—“ he stops himself and clears his throat. “Long story short, you can’t talk. They don’t want you to talk, scream, or even _grunt._  I also know the doctor is monitoring your lung that collapsed as well as the rest of your chest cavity for internal bleeding. You may need surgery in a bit.”

As he shows her all the pictures, she’s able to see the bruising, stitches and broken ribs that Nick left out in his evaluation last they spoke. Eventually, she waves the monitor away and falls back on her bed with a frustrated huff of breath. She gets it. She’s a mangled _mess._

Bogo looks at her again, but this time she sees an expression she doesn’t see often: worry. It’s slight, and maybe a trick of the light, but it looks to be there to her. He pushes the monitor back into the wall. “I came to return your phone, that’s all. I shouldn't stay, you need to rest. Hang in there, Hopps,” he says, clearing his throat, before he heads to the door.

Judy bangs on the arm rest of her hospital bed for his attention. He spins around and waits for her to type something else out.

_Do my parents have to see me?_

Bogo cocks an eyebrow. “No. They don’t. Would you prefer it if I kept them away? I can arrange for that.”

It sounds mean now that Bogo spells it out for her, but she can’t deny the part of her that doesn’t want them to see her. Any desire she has to want them, to _need them,_ can’t trump the embarrassment of her situation. She promised them she would not get hurt. She promised them that nothing would happen. And now she’s practically dead.

But she knows that telling them they can’t see her will only make things worse in the long run. If they know the extent of her injuries, telling them to buzz off will only break their hearts. So Judy makes a compromise.

_Tell them I still can’t hear._

Maybe, just maybe, that way? They won't bother to speak.

Bogo reads the text and nods, and there are no questions asked. “Okay.”

She nods her thanks and Bogo leaves, giving her one last glance before he shuts the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

Her parents come up 10, maybe 15 minutes later. Bonnie bursts out crying the second she sees Judy, and Stu isn’t too far behind. The wailing isn’t pleasant, but her mom isn’t a very loud crier, and she much prefers it to her attempting to talk while she sobs.

“Hey there, Jude,” he whispers, gives a little wave. “We’re glad you’re still alive kiddo.”

She keeps a straight face, trying to pretend she can’t hear them. At least for now, their voices are soft, afraid that a higher decibel will break their already broken daughter.

“Don’t bother Stu, she can’t hear us,” Bonnie huffs, reaching into the front pocket of her paisley dress for a wadded up tissue to dry her eyes. “And just look at her!” she chokes, the waterworks starting up again. “She’ll probably never hear us again!” So much for the quiet.

“Oh, c’mon now, that ain’t true,” Stu soothes. “The doctors said her hearing will return; it’ll just take a little time.”

“I knew this would happen.” Bonnie sighs shakily, blowing her nose.

“You knew a giant bear would maul her?”

Bonnie makes a weak smack for his arm. “Stop it! You know what I mean! It was only a matter of time before this police dream of hers _killed her!”_

Judy wants to point out that she’s not dead, but it’s not a very strong argument. She might be alive, but she’s hanging on by a thread. For all intents and purposes, Judy considers herself still in limbo land, with one unlucky rabbit’s foot in the grave. Sitting in this hospital bed with all her bones nearly broken, with her jaw wired shut, with her head _pounding, pounding, pounding…._ is this really living?

There’s a knock on her door and then a doctor walks in—a meerkat, the one she saw earlier—with a clipboard in his hand. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Hopps. My name is Dr. Marvin Manor. Officer Hopps has been assigned under my care for the remainder of her recovery.”

Bonnie and Stu launch into a million questions, each piling on top of each other, but Dr. Manor stops them a few quick shushes. “I’m sorry, but it’s vital that Officer Hopps remains in a quiet environment where she can rest. I’m going to ask you to lower your voices. “

“What’s that matter, Judy can’t _hear—!“_

“It’s likely that she _can_ hear at this point, but—“ his eyes flicker to hers just briefly, just long enough to see the desperation in her eyes, “—her ears are probably ringing, which can be very painful.” He says quietly. “So quiet, silence even, is best.”

Bonnie and Stu gasp before they step closer to her, her father grabbing her hand. “Jude! Is he right, can you hear us?”

Her eyes look back and forth between her mother and father before Judy gives up on having to avoid answering them and, with a loud exhale of her nose, gives the smallest nod of her head.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Bonnie demands.

That’s when Dr. Manor steps in again. “She can’t speak. We…had to wire her jaw shut.” Both Bonnie and Stu gasp so loudly it’s practically a scream. “Please, Mrs. Hopps. She needs you to be quiet.”

“Oh my goodness,” Bonnie sobs, and now even Stu has shed a few tears. Her mother reaches out and barely, ever so gently, as if she’s a _ghost,_ strokes the fur of her cheek right above one of her nastiest cuts. “My poor Judy…”

“I’ll be happy to go over Officer Hopps progress with you but I need to do a few tests on her first.” Dr. Manor opens the door to her hospital room and gestures down beyond the hall, towards the waiting room. “Hospital policy dictates that I do this alone.”

Luckily, her parents comply. With a few last skittish looks her way, Bonnie and Stu let Dr. Manor lead them out of her hospital room.

“Now,” Dr. Manor spins on his heel. “Let’s do a quick neuro exam, make sure everything’s hasn’t gotten too rattled in that head of yours, Officer Hopps.”

Judy clutches her phone tightly in her paw, her only good paw, only limb worth a _damn,_ before she types out _J-U-D-Y_ and holds it up for him to see.

He pushes down the glasses from atop his head and takes a look. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her like she’s reverted to some childish babble where she can only say her name.

She hastens to type out a longer sentence and shoves the phone back under her nose.

_No Officer Hopps. Just Judy._

He looks at her and for just the briefest of moments, he looks….sad.

But then he isn’t. “Okay Just Judy,” Dr. Manor smiles and the quip, the sly little grin, it kinda reminds her of Nick. “First name basis it is. You can call me Marvin.”

He then begins the boring and tedious task of shining a flashlight in her eyes, of forcing her to look at his pen go up and down and up and down and side to side and he’s poking and prodding and asking her if she’s nauseated? Does she need more morphine? Less morphine? A different pain medication all together? They don’t want her vomiting, not when she can’t even open her mouth (choking on vomit, what a way to go) and then he’s asking her to rate different areas of pain on a scale from 1-10 as if it’s not obvious that all of it, every bit of it, it’s an _11_ and then—

“Would you prefer to have another doctor, Judy?”

She blinks and wonders if any sort of befuddled expression passes through her bloodshot and bruised eyes.

“We have a hare on staff. He’s a trauma surgeon, just like me. The other doctor in trauma that I can arrange for you to have is Dr. Cedar, she’s a beaver, if you would prefer a female.”

Judy knows why he’s asking. She and Nick have gotten the same training at the academy—female victims of trauma often ask for female officers, or predator/prey specific officers, considering which category they fall into. But Judy never thought she’d be the one getting asked the questions; and what more?

She’s actually considering his offers.

“Hey,” Dr. Manor says quietly, and Judy notices that she’s shaking, _sweating,_ in her hospital bed. “It’s okay. I’m not offended. I want whatever’s best for you. Which means you need to be comfortable. If that means giving you a different doctor, then that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”

He smiles at her and she knows he means it. Sure, Dr. Manor is a meerkat, which is technically a predator but…he’s not all that bigger than she is, and he’s definitely not bigger than Nick. Judy feels stupid and foolish but there’s still something akin to adrenaline running through her veins, something feeding her _fear,_ so it’s not a matter of how or when or would he. Her only criterion is _can. Can he hurt me?_

She thinks, no. No, he can’t.

So she types in her phone:

_I’m fine._

“Well, if you say so.” Dr. Manor smiles at her. “But you can change your mind at any moment, no hard feelings. Okay?”

Judy nods as much as the neck brace allows and allows the doctor to finish giving her tests.

He then goes on to break down her recovery timeline. “Your jaw is our primary concern right now. I have full confidence that it will heal without complication, but I want to get you back to eating solid foods as soon as we can. Your head injury was startling, but the swelling has gone down quite a bit, and what little bleeding you had has stopped. We’ll continue to monitor it though and schedule you another CT scan, just in case. Your neck is fragile, keep the brace on, I'll look at the bandages in a few hours. Your arm is broken, but I want you to move your fingers while it’s in the sling for a while, just a bit every day, okay? Broken toes are annoying, but they heal pretty quickly.  Your ribs…you broke four of them. Your lung collapsed and damage to your liver caused some internal bleeding. You were rushed into surgery and they stopped the bleeding, but you’ll need another check in about six hours. Lastly, your leg. The break was severe. You will regain full use of it, but only if you adhere to strict physical therapy and do exactly as the doctors tell you, no deviations. You’ll likely be in a wheelchair for—“

Dr. Manor is interrupted by noise outside her room; it’s her parents, she can hear them, and by the sound of it Nick is out there too, trying to get them to be less…loud.

“Parents worry, it’s their job,” he says, going off on an obvious tangent, “It’s hard to see their child so injured but they forget it’s just as hard for the child to have their parents see them so hurt or sick as well.”

Judy hums softly, a sound from the back of her throat as her eyes flicker to the door to imagine what’s going on beyond it. She can hear, but not completely, and she can’t make out any words. She isn’t sure just how loud her parents might be.

“I’m going to put you down on a No Visitors status,” Dr. Manor explains. “We can go over more later, but I think right now you need as much rest as you can get.”

Judy holds up her phone. _Nick can stay._

Dr, Manor leans in with a conspiring grin. “I’m going to issue the status in in front of him and your parents. He can fake leaving and go to the cafeteria—maybe get those vanilla puddings he’s been eating by the bucket since he’s been here—and come back up later, once your parents are gone. Text him that you want him, and I’m sure he’ll come right back up.” he whispers. “I know it’s tough, but I think….sending your parents away until you’re a little less black and blue might be best.”

She nods her agreement. Judy loves her parents, she really does but…she can’t let them see her like this. Not until she looks a little more like a healthy rabbit and a little less like she took a jackhammer to the face.

Before he leaves, Dr. Manor gives her more fluids and fluffs all her pillows. “If you need more morphine, press the button. The machine won’t give you more than the appropriate allotted dose. And Miss Judy?”

She waits.

“Sleep well.”

He’s not even halfway out the door before she’s pounding the PCA like it’s a game show buzzer in hopes that sleep is immediate and swift.

It is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I'm not a doctor, so I don't know all things medical. I'm trying to be vague so I don't step on the toes of any doctors or nurses who are reading this. From this point, Judy's recovery will switch more heavily to psychological so you guys won't have to suffer long lol.  
> 2) someone pointed out that zootopia doesn't have primates/breeded dogs, which I hadn't noticed. I only ever saw the movie once, if you believe that. I won't include them anymore. I just put them in there bc I was trying to make good animal matches to the occupation. (st bernards are rescue dogs so....yeah). Sorry about that. its changed.  
> 3) yes his name is manor bc of meerkat manor okay I couldn't think of any cute little pun. bite me.  
> 4) yeah ok i think im done hope this chapter isn't as much of a disaster as the last, lmao!!! Nick will be back next chapter.


	3. part three

“Is this your card?”

For the thirty-second time Judy simply stares at Nick with uninterested eyes. He grins theatrically while holding up what is, in fact, her card: the four of clubs. He’s been using the same limited edition Gazelle deck, printed with different photos of Gazelle, her dancers, music video sets, and album covers. Clawhauser must have dropped off when she was sleeping. They’re covered in cheap sparkles that have rubbed off into the fur of Nick’s fingers as he’s been repeatedly doing as many beginner’s level card tricks that he can remember for the past forty-five minutes.

“Once again, it seems you have been stunned silent in awe of my magic,” he waggles his eyebrows and reshuffles the deck before he fans the cards all out once more. “Okay, I think I have one more trick left up my sleeve; pick a card.”

Judy’s had enough. She gives a small shake of her head and weakly paws at Nick’s arms, begging him to give it a rest.

“Aw, come on!” He inches closer, elbows on her bed. “Not having fun?”

She levels him with another gaze and once more slaps his arm, trying to shoo him away.

His smile fizzles away and he sighs. Judy feels his eyes on her, _staring at her,_ before he gives up and sets the deck of cards in her lap.

“Okay,” he whispers, tired, _worried._ Nick grabs her paw and runs his fingers over hers. “You ready for your next surgery?”

Judy doesn’t look at him and instead fingers the card on top of the deck in her lap—the two of hearts.

“Sorry I couldn’t give a hand—blood? Arm? A new head? What is it you’re getting again?” His eyes flicker towards her monitor, but he doesn’t make any move to get up and read it. “Foxes aren’t compatible with bunnies. Medically.”

He knows exactly what her surgery is, down to a tee. Luckily, there are no organs to take away or give. They’re doing surgery (her second one since she’s woken up with a wired jaw), this time on her leg. It seems the break is nastier than Dr. Manor explained to her. But she knows he’s doing everything in his power to make sure she can regain full use of her leg again.

Eventually, Judy finds herself furiously rubbing at the glittered outer façade of the playing cards—the red sparkles stick to the pads of her fingers and she amuses the thought of blood being glittered as such. It doesn’t seem too far a stretch—both glitter and blood tend to get everywhere, it’s impossible to get out of clothes, it seems to _stain—_

“Do you want to see your parents before you go in?”

She’s slightly less black and blue, but she still doesn’t think she can handle it. Judy can barely handle _Nick,_ but she knows he won’t leave her alone, no matter what she types out on her phone.

So Judy shakes her head and continues to stare down, fiddling with the playing cards. Her head still hurts, but considerably less since they found a good pain dosage for her, and she wonders if she can distract herself with a game of solitaire. She doesn't want to, just wonders if she can.

“Alright,” Nick sighs again, just as Dr. Manor comes in, flanked by two nurses.

“Okay Judy, you ready?” He asks her, not even looking up from his chart.

She doesn’t answer (she can’t) and she’s whisked away to what is another attempt at saving a mangled bunny’s livelihood.

Judy starts to wonder for the first time if she’s worth the effort, _truly_ worth the effort, but maybe that’s the anesthetic talking as it puts her into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

  

* * *

 

When she wakes again, Judy is alone.

It’s for the best.

Everything _hurts._ She’s being pumped full of drugs and it numbs some of it, but it disorients her and confuses her. With every passing hour in that damn hospital bed Judy gets back a piece, a _glitter sized speck_ of her focus, her reality, _herself,_ only for it to be taken away with dialysis, a change of medication, another goddamn surgery. She doesn’t even know how many days have passed since the attack— _her attack—_ and it’s driving her mad, driving her into despair. Half of her wants to stay sleep forever, but with sleep comes waking with more disorientation, more confusion, and more _pain._ But when she stays awake she is faced with the constant reminder that she is broken, so physically broken, with limitations she’s never imagined.

The doctors say she’ll recover. But she doesn’t believe them. How can she believe them? Judy can’t remember all her injuries because in half, they are _extensive_ and in half because her head alone is severe damage in itself. Someone tried to murder her and while her heart still beats, her lungs still breathe, she still feels...murdered.

So when Judy wakes, she’s glad she’s alone, because it’s all too much.

She sobs.

Her mouth is wired shut and she feels saliva foam her mouth like she’s crazy, like she’s _savage._ Her chest burns with still-present bruises and the weight of her own heartache; it’s like she’s been hit by a car, been hit by a bus, been hit by a _bear—_

With every sob she convulses, she _heaves,_ and her tears run down her cheeks to soak her bandages and tickle her neck. Her hospital room window is open and she looks out to see a bright sunny day with fluffy clouds, the kinds that Nick would compare to her tail, and she knows she won’t be able to feel the breeze on her face for a long time, maybe _ever,_ and it’s all too much.

For the first time in Judy Hopps’ life, she understands what it feels to want to die.

The door to her room opens. “Hey, Carrots, I had to get a few things but I picked you up a book, the boring kind on gardening just like you like—Judy?”

It’s too late for her to stop crying at this point. Nick rushes to her side, worry etched into his face. His hands hover, but don’t touch, and he glances at her monitor. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He whispers hurriedly. “What hurts?”

She continues to cry.

Nick’s ears flatten before he practically runs across the room to grab her phone. “Here, here,” he says, holding up the phone in her paw. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Judy starts to type, slowly, while Nick rips open her hospital door and shouts, _“Can we get a damn doctor in here?”_

He promises her that someone’s on their way that she just needs to hold on, they’re going to help her, please stop crying, what’s wrong, please tell me what’s wrong what can I do _what can I do?_

Her paw shakes, _trembles,_ as she holds up the phone for him to see

_I want everything to stop._

Nick looks heartbroken, like he’s just been given the worst news of his life. He hesitates, continues to hover, before he throws all caution to the wind and climbs in the hospital bed with her. Propping himself on his side, he snuggles against her good side, the one without the broken arm and rests his chin above her head.

“Hey,” he whispers in her ears. He begins to stroke the tips of her ears, the only thing that isn’t bruised or cut or _broken._ “Ssh, ssh, I’m right here.”

She wants to open her mouth, scream until she passes out, but all she can do is hiccup through clenched teeth.

“I’m right here,” he whispers, continuing to hold her as close as he can. “I’m not going to leave you. I’m not giving up on you, so you can’t give up on yourself.”

It’s not his decision. She wants to tell him it’s not his decision.

He sighs, and she feels his tears fall on her cheek. “Please don’t give up,” he says, this time asking, _begging._ “Please…don’t give up.”

She sniffles, but starts to relax. Her good arm reaches to find his and she squeezes hard hard _hard_ as if squeezing hard will make him feel her pain with her.

He squeezes back, just as hard, and she’s thankful he finally treats her like she won’t break any more than she already has. The kiss he presses on the top of her head is just as rough, just as desperate.

“I got you,” he says over and over again, like a mantra. “I got you.”

The nurse comes running in and Nick demands for someone to look her over, to adjust her pain meds, to do _something_ to make her more comfortable. All the while he refuses to get off her bed, even at the nurse’s insistence.

“We’re having a slumber party. I’m not moving,” he says defiantly before he buries his face into Judy’s good shoulder. And that’s that.

He’s still holding her paw when she falls asleep.

  

* * *

 

The next time Judy wakes, Nick is still on her bed, asleep.

She spends five, maybe ten, minutes staring at his face: unscathed, undamaged, and just a tad handsome, even with the drool. There’s no inclination to reach out and stroke his face, to hold him close: right now she’s just content to look. He looks peaceful for the first time since after the attack. He is alive and safe.

But eventually, she has to address that her arm, her only good arm, is losing circulation because Nick’s leaned a little too much to the right in his sleep. So, she nudges him awake. He wakes up slowly, quietly, as if he’s the one coming out of a morphine induced coma.

“Hey,” he says quietly. His breath fans over her face and it smells awful, but she doesn’t have the heart nor the means to comment on it. “How do you feel?”

_Like I got beaten within an inch of my life._ It still hurts to move, to _breathe,_ but the crushing weight on her heart doesn’t feel as unbearable.

So she decides not to overthink it. The Judy Hopps Nick knows wouldn't overthink it.

As best she can she leans past Nick to the small table by her bedside. She barely manages to pluck the deck of cards rubber-banded together, but she does it, she _actually_ does it, and drops them in her lap.

Nick stares at her, a little sleepy, a little confused, before a slow smile blooms on his face. “Okay,” he whispers before he props himself up on the bed and starts shuffling the cards. After a few moments he fans them out and presents them to her.

"Pick a card."

A little magic never hurt anyone, so she picks a card.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually write humor, I never write serious stuff, so this is new territory to me. It's kinda nerve-wracking sharing it, because it's so out of my comfort zone, but I hope you're still enjoying it. Have a good day!


	4. part four

Eventually, Judy decides she’s tortured her parents long enough.

She isn’t entirely sure, but she thinks that Nick must have spoken to them—Nick, Bogo, Dr. Manor, _someone_ —and given them a crash course on what _not_ to say. Because the second time around, her parents are a lot more….normal. As normal as one can be when their kid looks like she got run over by a mountain, or whatever the metaphor is for today.

Nick’s got half a vanilla pudding in his paw when he excuses himself with a promise to be back within the hour. Bonnie and Stu don’t say anything at first, but they’re calm, and that’s a start. Her mother sits herself by the window and smooths her dress down over and over while her father fiddles with the clasps of his overalls. He breaks the ice with a clearing of his throat and announces: “Your momma burned a pie last week.”

“Stu!”

Judy blinks and watches as her father smiles, slowly. “First time in her life that I can recall her ever burnin’ anything.” She looks over to see Bonnie fidgeting, but even she has a smile, albeit reluctant. “Now, she says she was distracted but—“

“I’ve told Clover and Billy a _hundred times_ not to toss that darn ball—“

“—I think, and there’s no shame in this! Your momma might be gettin’ a bit old.”

“Stu.”

Judy manages to crack a smile as best she can. She picks her phone up from her lap and types out:

_Maybe Mom should leave the baking to Gideon._

Stu leans over her bed to read her phone; his laughter is hearty. “Bon, she says to leave the baking to Gid.”

Bonnie rolls her eyes fondly before she gets up and takes her own pace to her daughter’s bedside. “I just wanted to try it. It’s blackberry season and the little ones picked so many good ones in the woods in the backyard. But maybe you’re right,” Bonnie sighs, reaching up to touch a nervous hand to one of Judy’s ear. “Maybe I’ll leave the pie baking to god ole’ Gideon Grey.

Judy breathes in slowly, lets it out even slower, and closes her eyes, turning into her mother’s touch.

Her parent’s then start to talk about Clover and Billy and all her other siblings, updating her on who is doing best in school, who is doing best in art, who is doing best at making Mom want to rip her ears out. Stu talks about the farm and Bonnie talks about the neighbors and Judy…can’t talk, but it’s nice to be reminded of the thing she loves at home.

“Don’t you worry, hon, when you come home you’ll get all caught up,” Bonnie eventually promises.

Judy must convey some sort of panic in just her eyes, because her father is quick to step in. “Just until you get better, Jude. The doctors have mentioned that when they let you out of here, you can’t be on your own quite yet. So…we thought you know. You’d stay with us. Just for a while! Can’t have Zootopia’s finest cop away from her city too long, right?”

“Stu,” Bonnie says, but unlike the previous two times she’s said it, his name is cold, quiet, tired.

It’s almost like she isn’t in the room anymore. “Bonnie, not now.” Her father begs.

“Judy can’t just go back—“

“She can do whatever she wants.”

“No, she _can’t. Not anymore._ Look at her—!”

Stu holds his arm up, sparing Judy a sympathetic look before he turns to his wife. “Stop. She’s right here. She might not be able to talk, but she can hear us.”

Bonnie looks torn, like she doesn’t know whether to treat Judy as if she’s awake or as if she’s a mirage that she doesn’t want to look at. “Judy,” her mother starts, “I’m just concerned. Criminals are a dime a dozen here and…well….I asked Nick about the incident.”

Judy swallows.

“Twenty seconds,” Bonnie whispers, gesturing up and down, “and he managed to do all that. Multiple surgeries, broken bones, all of it….”

“Bonnie.”

“Twenty seconds,” she whispers again, quieter, more broken this time. “That’s all it took. Twenty seconds. And it could happen again.”

“Bonnie.”

“Twenty- _one_ seconds and you’d be—“

“That’s _enough.”_ Stu sighs. Thankfully, Bonnie heads his advice. “We can talk about this later, when Jude’s all better.” Her father then reached up on his toes and leans forward to drop a kiss on his daughter’s forehead.

There’s a knock on the door before Nick lets himself in. He’s got another vanilla pudding cup in his hand, the plastic spoon hanging from his mouth. “Hey—oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no, that’s quite fine, Nick.” Bonnie rushes to say, smoothing her dress again, looking nervous. “We were just wrapping up our visit for today.”

Stu nods his head in agreement. “Thanks for lookin’ after our girl, Nick. You’re a good man.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Nick says, popping the spoon out of his mouth. “After all, she’s the reason I got any good in me these days.”

Her father smiles and clasps Nick on the shoulder before he gently grabs his wife by the arm and guides her out of the hospital room. Bonnie tosses one last concerned look Judy’s way before she rips her gaze away and closes the door behind her.

“How’d it go?” Nick asks, mouthful of pudding, as he hops up on her hospital bed. He doesn’t lie next to her; he only sits crisscross applesauce on the end of her bed where her broken legs aren’t long enough to reach. He opens his phone and waits for her text response while he needlessly swirls the pudding over and over again.

_If you keep eating all that pudding, you’re going to get fat_

Nick’s phone beeps and the look on his face when he checks it is priceless. “Hey,” he whines, and Judy’s cheeks pinch when she smiles as best the wires allow her. “I’m only eating them in your honor, so really, this is all for you.” He points the spoon her way, trying and failing not to smile, “If I get fat, it’s your fault.”

As much fun as teasing Nick can be, Judy doesn’t have the energy. So she goes for a subject change: _My parents want me to move to Bunnyburrow when I get out_

When Nick reads the text, his eating significantly slows, the spoonful of pudding hanging a few inches from his mouth. Judy has spent a lot of time trying to read Nick’s mind but it’s always been difficult: add a severe head injury and disorienting meds, and it’s impossible.

But whatever he’s thinking he seems to drop it pretty quickly. “Yeah?” Again with the mouthful. She swears he’s doing it to annoy her.

She types again. _Until I fully recover._

“Ohhhhh,” Nick sighs, looking relieved. “Oh, I get it. Well, it’d suck not seeing you every day but,” he shovels more pudding in his mouth. “I understand. You can’t be on your own for a bit, right?”

_What if I stayed with you?_

Nick finally puts the pudding down. “Yeah, yeah, Carrots,” he looks up from his phone and smiles. “Uh, you can stay with me. If that’s what you want.”

There’s another knock on Judy’s door and she’s terrified it’s her mother coming back to scare her to death, but it’s only a nurse. “Mr. and Mrs. Hopps? You have some co-workers here. You up for another visit?”

Judy waves her paw in a nonchalant gesture before she texts Nick: _Mr. Hopps?_

“I’m your husband, remember?” he winks. “I took your name.”

_Why my name?_

“What can I say? I’m a progressive.” He sets the pudding aside and hauls his ass of her bed. “So what do you think? Okay if I let them in?”

She toys with her phone for a few moments before she nods.

Nick flashes her one of his dazzling smiles before he slips out of the room. He’d gone for a bit, most likely giving them the run down: she looks like hell, she _smells_ even worse (she would kill for a shower) and she can’t run her dumb bunny mouth (“count your blessings” she imagines him joking, because that’s just how he deals with this sort of stuff).

When he does return, Judy is surprised by just how many have shown up. Clawhauser seemed likely, but the additions of Delgato, McHorn, Francine, the new guy Moosejaw, and Bogo himself come as the surprise.

Lastly, Grizzwald comes in, eyes on the floor.

“Hey there, Hopps,” McHorn greets before he sets a humungous flower arrangement on one of the tables on the far side of the room. “How you holding up?”

Judy can’t stop staring at Grizzwald.

“We’ve been slapping Moosejaw here with parking duty,” Francine chuckles, slapping the slightly bow-legged moose on the back. “Even gave him the same little dumb car.”

“Not true,” Bogo says smoothly, but even he’s cracking a grin as the rest of them let in a bit of a laugh.

Judy can’t stop staring at Grizzwald.

“Oooh!” Clawhauser coos, reaching for some of the stuff Nick must have set aside before her parents came to visit. “I see you got my deck of cards. And you’ve opened them! What have you been playing?”

“I’ve been dazzling her with some amazing magic tricks,” Nick brags, but out of the corner of her eye she can see the funny look on his face as he stares at her, staring at _him_ who is staring _back at her_ and—

“Hey,” Delgato snaps his fingers. “Judy?” He turns his head. “Wilde, I thought you said she was lucid.”

“She is, she’s just—“ Nick sighs and Judy feels her mattress dip with his weight as he leans heavily on one side of her bed. “Fluff,” Nick whispers. “Hey, you okay?”

She feels his fingers run up and down her ears before he gives her shoulder a soft squeeze. Blinking, she tears her eyes away to look at her other co-workers (large, large, _large teeth)_ smiling at her.

They look friendly, _are friendly,_ but she feels herself start to shake.

In an attempt to distract herself, she picks up her phone and types out a simple greeting: _Hello, everyone._

Nick does the reading for them all, giving his own humorous touch to the greeting. “She says long time no see, assholes.”

They all chuckle. Delgato opens his mouth to say something, probably getting ready to launch into another work story, but he stops when he sees her typing again.

_How’s Bernard?_

Nick’s ears flatten and he swallows uneasily. “Judy…”

“What’d she say?” Clawhauser asks. Nick’s struggling for an answer while Judy simply paws her phone off to the cheetah.

He’s grin is excited as he reads it out loud. “How’s Bernard…oh,” the smile falls instantly as all eyes fall on Grizzwald.

Grizzwald looks as skittish, which is an odd sight. “Judy,” he whispers, “Maybe now isn’t the best time to be going over the case.”

Judy yanks the phone out of Clawhauser’s paw and types again. _I want to know. Tell me._

Bogo clears his throat. “Hopps, I really don’t think—“

She frowns and bangs on the side of her bed. It shakes the side table and Nick’s half-eaten pudding goes falling on the floor.

Grizzwald runs a paw over his face before he gives in. “My brother’s fine. He didn’t sustain any serious injuries in the attack.”

Judy nods, satisfied, before she stares Francine straight in the eye.

The elephant tries to stare her down, to resist, but no one can resist a sad, broken bunny in a hospital room. She gives in with a heavy sigh and an ugly grimace. “We booked him, charged him with assault of a police officer,” her eyes flicker to Nick.  “Nick put up a fight for attempted murder.”

Nick looks as far out the window as possible.

After that, Delgato and McHorn jump in willingly. “We drug tested him, he was clean.” Delgato explains.

“However, doctors did a psych evaluation and schizophrenia is a possibility.” McHorn explains. “The doctors want to have a few more sessions with him before we go ahead and medicate him, see if that makes a difference.”

“He’s a bit…” Francine starts to say, but McHorn interrupts her.

“Don’t go there. We can’t jump to conclusions.”

“I really don’t think it’s all that big of a jump, all things considering—“

“We’re looking into this very closely, Judy. We want to make sure that he wasn’t a part of a bigger organization or something trying to cause widespread harm. So we’re going to take our time—“

“Oh, give it a rest! Look at her! We don’t need more evidence, we need a court date!”

As they argue, they start to crowd her bed.

“Wilde is looking into the evidence, and until he’s done—“

Nick notices that Judy’s heart rate starts to increase. “Guys—“

“He’s looked at it a hundred times! He pours over it every night! What else is there to look at! Security cameras, eye witnesses, family friends, they all say the same thing—he beat her half to death!”

Judy’s heart is racing, and she feels crowded, overwhelmed, _frightened._

“Guys!” Nick says more desperately, but it’s not loud enough. He continues to stroke Judy’s ears and tells her she’s okay, she’s fine, they’re talking they won’t hurt her they’re _friends._

“We have to make sure this doesn’t happen again! If it happens again—“

“Shut your _mouths!”_ Bogo finally shouts.

They all stop to look at Bogo before they turn their attention back to Judy.

“Oh, no,” Francine whispers. “Judy, I’m….I’m so….”

Judy’s panicking again, trying to open her mouth but she _can’t._ She can’t get any damn air.

There’s a knock on a door and Judy can’t handle it because what if it’s him _what if it’s Bernard._ It doesn’t make sense but she believes it (why does she believe it); but then it’s only Dr. Manor.

He reads the situation quickly and without hesitation. “Okay, I think Judy has had enough excitement for the day,” he says kindly, but his smile is tight. She still feels Nick’s hands rubbing at her ears and tries to focus on that. “I think it’s best if we let her get some rest. You can visit real soon, promise.”

Her coworkers file out without complaint, casting sad glances on their way out. Nick remains, or at least tries to.

“You too, Nick,” Dr. Manor whispers. “Just for a moment. Please.”

Nick whimpers, _he actually whimpers,_ before he shakes his head no. “I said I wouldn’t leave. I’m not leaving.”

A sigh. “…okay, just. Stand back a bit.”

Judy thinks he says something else, but she can’t tell because she’s gone deaf from the adrenaline (adrenaline? Her own blood? She can’t remember) roaring in her ears. She’s breathing hard and clawing at her mouth as Dr. Manor steps closer.

“Judy. Judy, _breathe._ I need you to breathe for me.”

She shakes her head _no no no_ and continues to paw at her mouth, showing her braced teeth.

“You’re about to have a panic attack. If I have to step in to help you breathe, it’ll set back your recovery time. You can do this. You can breathe on your own just as you are, you’ve been doing it for days, remember?”

He reaches for her, and she flinches.

She has fought her fear of predators, her fear of being vulnerable, for years and then she meets a bear and then there’s _twenty_ seconds and then she’s in a hospital and there’s a nice meerkat doctor and he is only trying to help her and she’s _flinching_  but she doesn’t flinch with Nick and that’s different, but why is it different, why is she _flinching_ and she hates herself for it.

She wonders if he notices.

Oh, hell. Of course he notices.

His face is concerned, but his voice is still soothing, steady. “In through your nose, as deep and long as you can. You’re fine. Please Judy, breathe.”

Gasping for air isn’t working so she tries holding her breath to get her heart rate down.

“No, no, no,” Dr. Manor soothes, reaching closer. She sees him pound on the nurses button. “Don’t hold your breath. _Breathe._ Okay. Let’s think of something relaxing. Where did your folks say you were from? Bunnyburrow? That’s out in the country, yeah? They have lots of rolling hills and tons of green grass and blue skies. Must be nice to have all that fresh air.”

Fresh air.

She wants fresh air.

But she can’t _get any._

A nurse runs in just as Judy’s starting to see spots from her borderline hyperventilation. “Page Dr. Thumper for me, tell him I’d like him to see that rabbit I mentioned before, ASAP.” He turns back to Judy and smiles. “Good. Good, keep breathing just like I asked.”

In under two minutes, a hare in a pair of scrubs and a surgical mask walks in. “I’ve got a few minutes before my next surgery, what’s up?” he asks. His eyes catch Judy and despite the fact that she looks like a total _wreck_ he smiles at her. “You must be the famous Judy Hopps I’ve been hearing about. I’m Dr. Kevin Thumper.”

Dr. Manor gestures for him to step closer, which he does. “Judy, I’m going to have Dr. Thumper walk you through some breathing exercises to help you calm down.”

“Those wires can be nasty, can’t they?” Dr. Thumper comes over on her other side, glancing at her monitor. “We don’t want to cut them, so let’s see if we can get you to calm down. Just breathe in and out through your nose as slowly as you possibly can. Did you know I grew up right outside of Bunnyburrow? Your dad and my dad know each other.”

Her ear twitches, listening.

“We had peach trees. Tons of them. My mom made peach cobbler all the time. You like peach cobbler?”

Judy nods.

“Well too bad. She was awful at it. Just terrible. But she submitted that damn cobbler to the baking contest at the tri-burrows fair every damn year. And Stu was the only person who said anything nice.”

“Hear that?” Nick pipes in. “Your dad is a no good filthy liar,” and Dr. Thumper laughs with him.

She thinks of all the times her father lied out of sparing her or any of her other sibling’s feelings. Hell, now that she thinks about it, her mom has probably burned a _lot_ of pies and he’s just never brought it up until today.

It makes her feel better.

“You’re doing better already, Judy,” Dr. Thumper tells her before he gestures for Nick to take his place. “I’m going to go scrub in for surgery, but when I’m done, I’ll come back and visit you if you’d like, okay?”

Judy nods in understanding (she isn’t sure if she wants to see him but she’s so tired she figures it won’t matter when she falls asleep and doesn’t wake for days).

The room is empty, quieter, _bigger,_ and Judy finally feels like she can breathe. Nick is back at her side, albeit not as close as before, and takes to holding her paw, running his fingers over hers. “Does your mom make a peach cobbler? I’d love to try one.”

She doesn’t answer, only stares at Dr. Manor before she remembers her phone is in her lap. Scrambling to write something before he leaves, her paw shakes as she types in each letter at a sloth pace and holds it up for him to see.

_I’m sorry. I don’t want to be scared._

“It’s okay, Judy.” Dr. Manor smiles.

She types again. _No new doctor._

“You don’t like Dr. Thumper?”

_No,_ she types, even though she does. _You’re my doctor. Please don’t leave. I’ll be better._

Nick squeezes her hand _tight tight tight_ and Dr. Manor’s face crumples and loses some, if not most, of his professionalism.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he says quietly. “You’re already doing very well, Judy,” he smiles, reaching for the door. “Get some rest.”

She squeezes Nick’s paw one more time before exhaustion carries her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I couldn't post yesterday I fell asleep after work at like 4 in the afternoon I was exhausted lol. Uh, this feels redundant but I feel like its important to set up a few things before that big question of her career comes back into play. so yeah. okay. enjoy my garbage fic lmao.  
> (also yeah I know THUMPER. also moosejaw I hate me. whatever. bite me I can't think of NAMES.)


	5. part five

The first dream Judy has while she is in the hospital is pleasantly mundane.

She’s back in Bunnyburrow with her parents and her siblings and she’s….farming. Not too far of a stretch. Judy _does_ know how to farm; working the tractor is kinda fun, if she has to admit. It’s one of those dreams where time seems drag on in real time and when she wakes up, it’s like she actually spent an entire week back on the family farm. Everything felt so _real:_ Andy still told bad jokes while they pulled weeds, Sally still begged to stay in the greenhouse past dark, her dad would take them all out in the fields to stare at the stars.

It’s a nice dream.

When she opens her eyes she feels relaxed. It might be the dream, might be the sedative, but at least she’s not all that disoriented, so Judy counts her blessings. She sighs and shifts a little in the bed before she turns her head to see Nick by the window sill. He’s in a position she’s familiar with: papers scattered about, empty pudding cups on the floor, his computer on his lap. This time there are new editions by means of a pair of glasses she hasn’t seen before and a cup of hospital coffee in a Styrofoam cup still steaming in one paw.

Judy grabs her phone and sends Nick a greeting text; it goes straight to his texting app on his computer and the ding echoes throughout her room. He looks up through his glasses and smiles wearily. She feels bad that he’s so tired. It’s like he never sleeps because of her these days. “Hey there. How’s my favorite bunny?”

_I didn’t know you wore glasses,_ she texts.

He chuckles, a little sound that doesn’t quite leave his throat before he turns his attention back to his screen and Judy hears the little _tip tap_ of his fingers on the keys. “When you’re my age, you’ll have a little more sympathy,” he says, stills smiling. He takes a sip of his coffee as he continues to type. “Did you sleep well?”

_I had a dream._

“A good one I hope. Lots of carrots, maybe?” And he doesn’t realize how spot on his little joke is. Nick’s smile sits crooked on his face as he continues to work.

She writes again, _What are you working on?_

He breathes loudly out his mouth with dramatic flair. “Oh, Chief Buffalo Butt has me working a fraud case, which is irony at its finest if you ask me.” He laughs again. “It’s very boring, you aren’t missing out on much.”

Judy frowns. The light coming from her hospital room is very faint, tainted in shades of purple, and she looks at her phone for the time: 5:45AM. Way too early to be looking at a boring fraud case on what should be a Saturday morning.

_You’re looking at the Bernard case aren’t you?_

His computer dings and his answer is instantaneous. “Nope,” his mouth pops with the syllable.

_Please don’t lie to me_

It’s the please that gets him, she knows it does. Nick’s ears flatten, but he doesn’t say anything.

_I can see the photos on the chair._

He looks surprised and turns to stare at his chair, confusion etched in his feature. “How can you see these from clear over there? I thought you had your eyes punched out.”

She rolls said eyes before she types again: _Show me the case file._

“Nope,” he repeats, but this time sounding much more serious. “There are pictures of you in here. You don’t need to see these.”

_I have to see them eventually._

“Then we’ll cross that bridge, eventually. Come on, Hopps. Do you _really_ want to see them? While you’re still….recovering?”

She takes her heel, the one not attached to the broken leg, and hits it _hard_ against the plastic siding of her bed. It startles Nick just enough that the cup in his hand shakes a few droplets of coffee that go flying onto his tie. He sighs, staring at his computer screen and internally arguing with himself, if his facial expression is a giveaway. Finally, he starts to get off the floor, mumbling complaints about his age as various joints pop here and there. Nick grabs the red folder with her case, as well as his laptop, and comes over to get everything settled in her lap. He takes the tray they set up for patients to eat meals on and attaches it to her bed before he sets his laptop on top of it. With the casefile, he hesitates, before he simply tosses it open on the bed.

It seems like Nick is going to walk her through it but something in his stance becomes apprehensive: his arms are crossed, one hand at his mouth, chewing at his claw. So, Judy decides she and her punched out eyeballs can read on her own just fine.

As she arrows through Nick’s typed note, she notices it is a very detailed account. Aside from Nick and Officer Grizzwald’s accounts, there are 12 other key-witness accounts. She stops reading them after the 8th one: they all say the same thing.

One sunny afternoon, at 1400 hours, Nick and Judy got a call about a public disturbance in central, near the strip mall. The call reported that a male grizzly bear had gotten into an argument with a shop keeper at an electronics store and he had started throwing merchandise in the store. It was unknown whether he was on drugs or mentally ill. Judy and Nick had gotten there in under two minutes and called for the closest backup, which had been Grizzwald. Judy remembers all that perfectly. After that…it gets a bit hazy.

She looks over the pictures of the crime scene: broken glass, a destroyed display case, blood smeared on the walls and pavements. There’s a handprint that looks fox-sized on the pavement next to the biggest smear of blood, but she decides not to ask.

12 witnesses to the entire crime. In an electronics store. It makes her wonder.

Judy closes the tab of notes and opens up a clean document and types, _where’s the video?_

Nick plays dumb. “What video? Surveillance cams?” He shrugs. “It didn’t get the complete thing, and it doesn’t have sound, but—“

She shakes her head before she opens up the tab of witness accounts. She scrolls past the eighth one and keeps going, until she looks over the 11th witness account and points to the statement that a deer had gotten everything on video with her cellphone.

Nick swallows, looking nervous. “Judy…”

_It’s okay._

“It’s not okay—hey no, don’t!”

She ignores him and goes through his files to pull up a video that’s labeled with the same number as all the other evidence that’s put into her case file. Nick’s sigh is loud and defeated as she takes a deep breath and presses play.

At first, Judy attempts to be analytical; look at the evidence, try to see what caused the attack, what _exactly_ happened.

But then she watches that bear grab her by the neck and her plan goes to shit.

After the bear had grabbed her, he threw her into the shop window and onto the pavement. Her head breaks her fall. Her hearing must have gotten thrown out of whack on the first throw because she doesn’t remember all the _screams_ of the bystanders. She doesn’t remember Nick’s screams.

Grizzwald arrives for back up and after that, it looks like a game of whack-a-carrot at the Carrot Day Festival: the pavement is the carrot and Judy is the gavel. She’s punched, tossed, thrown _back_ into the store window and then the tranquilizer dart that Nick’s shot finally does its job and Bernard passes out.

Judy glances at the timestamp on the video: twenty seconds.

The deer, a doe, taking the video says something: _“Oh my god,”_ and she gets closer, still taping the scene. “ _is she okay?”_

Nick and Grizzwald are trying to push her back while they call for an ambulance. “Ma’am, please—“

_“Oh my god, she’s dead.”_ The doe whispers.

The deer just manages to get a glimpse of Judy’s mangled body before Judy slams the computer shut.

“Judy…” Nick says tentatively. “Aw, crud,” he sighs, pinching at his muzzle. “I shouldn’t have let you see that. Are you okay?”

She’s not _okay,_ but she’s not about to have a panic attack, so Judy decides that saying she’s okay is good enough. With a nod, she opens up the computer again and closes the video media player as quickly as possible.

What she needs is a distraction.

With a short tab over, Judy goes back to typing. _I had a dream last night._

Nick is quick to jump on the distraction train with her. “Yeah?” he says with almost a little too much forced enthusiasm. “Write me all about it.”

She does. She writes about the farm, about Andy and Sally, about Billy and Clover, about the best gardening tools, about the greenhouse: she writes about it all. And all the while, her ears get perkier and her posture gets straighter because while the farm is hard work and sometimes _tedious,_ it’s something she knows and trusts and doesn’t maul her when she tries to do her job.

Her partner’s face becomes softer as he reads on; it ages him, makes him look weathered like a beach stone by the tides. It’s not a bad look on him necessarily, it’s just not something Judy’s familiar with. Which means she can’t tell what he’s thinking or he’s about to say.

“It sounds like a nice place to live,” he says when she’s done. The computer has sat too long without someone tapping at the keys and the screen goes black, just like the end of a movie. “I can understand why you miss it from time to time.”

She waits, because there has to be more.

“Hey…Judy?”

Ah, there it is.

“Do you think….you’ll still want to be a cop, after all this?”

The heart rate monitor beeps steadily as she catches her reflection in the blank screen of computer: broken, scarred, bruised. She doesn't look like herself, doesn't feel like herself, and quite frankly, she doesn't know if she'll ever be herself again.

But she nods, because she thinks that’s what Judy Hopps would do.

Nick, however, doesn’t look too convinced.

Judy doesn’t blame him.

Her paw reaches out for the mouse pad and the screen lights back to life. Pressing enter a few times, she begins a new line.

_But…_

She lets her paw hover over the key, letting the one word she’s typed hang over a metaphorical cliff. All of a sudden, she feels exhausted and she can barely type out what she’s been afraid to admit to herself and Nick ever since she’s woken up in this damn hospital bed.

_I might need a break._

Her eyes start to droop as Nick collects his laptop and files, setting them by one of the chairs beside her bed. “Okay,” she hears him say as he eyes close shut,  overwhelmed by the pictures, the accounts, the stupid twenty second video that ruined her life.  “You can take a little break,” he says kindly, stroking one of her ears. “The Wilde-Hopps brand will be waiting for you when you’re ready.”

Judy vaguely wonders if she’ll ever be ready before she falls asleep.

She dreams of carrot farming again.

It’s a nice dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter, AND it took too long lol. Sorry about that. Busy weekend + not being able to write a descriptive attack on account of me being a mousy weakling who doesn't know anything about fights made this difficult. I know this story is really grim, and it'll certainly have a few more low points, but I don't plan on leaving it on a negative note so thinks will look up for Judy eventually, I promise! Thanks for all the kind words and kudos guys, it really keeps a gal writing lol!


	6. part six

Days turn into weeks, and weeks blend into an entire month at the hospital, which gives Judy a lot of time to be by herself.

Nick’s presence starts to fizzle: he’s no longer there every morning when she wakes up. And while Judy misses seeing him sprawled out in various places around her room, of seeing his pudding cups piling up in the garbage, of listening to him snore when he manages to catch a few winks, Judy is more glad that he’s not around quite as much. She wants everything to go back to normal as quickly as possible for her friends which means Nick needs to be back at work on a regular basis, eating things that aren’t pudding, and sleeping on an actual bed. If he sleeps on the hospital floor one more time, they’re going to have to admit him for a wrecked spine.

Judy sleeps a lot, but not because of the pain—she sleeps a lot because she’s _bored._ When Nick gets a chance, he drops off books for her to read. He knows her well, which means he brings a variety for her to browse: so, much of her free time is spent reading gardening books, craft books, second-hand astronomy textbooks from the university, historical accounts of the city’s founding, anything that can teach her something she doesn't already know. But eventually, Nick gets cheeky and starts to bring her anything and everything, just to see if she’ll actually read it. So Judy also reads not one, but _two_ erotica novels, a trashy tabloid magazine, and a dare for her to memorize all the cocktail recipes on the rolodex he’s brought her.

She does. And she’s still bored.

It’s not… _interesting._ It  used to be interesting. She doesn’t understand why it isn’t interesting. But she doesn’t dwell too long on it.

Judy just falls asleep instead.

And it’s mostly dreamless. And when and _if_ she dreams, that’s harmless too.

Most of the time.

Timing isn’t kind to her one afternoon when she wakes up to find Nick is in her hospital room. It’s sunny, mid-afternoon probably, which means it must be Saturday and Nick has the day off. Probably a nice, well-deserved break.

Until Judy ruins it with her blood-curdling scream.

That’s what startles her the most; she can _hear_ herself screaming. For the past three to four weeks Judy has gotten by on this muffled _grunt_ noise but now she can hear herself scream and it’s been so long she almost thinks it’s someone else.

Nick swears as he practically tumbles out of his chair in shock before he comes running over to her bedside. “What’s wrong?” His paws hover, his brow is furrowed in concern. “What do you need?”

Judy manages to _stop screaming_ before she reaches up to touch her mouth. She opens and closes her mouth a dozen times before says the first words she's spoken since her accident:

“What…?”

He blinks, a little surprised, before he smiles. “They took out the wires. I wanted to be here when you woke up. You’ve been asleep for a long time, Jude.”

“They took out…what?”

Timing then is a _little_ kinder as a nurse runs in to see what’s up, as well as offer an explanation. “We unwired your jaw this morning, Miss Hopps, remember?”

It comes to her again, slowly. She had been sleeping, hours on hours, before she woke up, told she was going to into surgery, was put under and then she woke _back_ up after the anesthesia…briefly? Before she fell back asleep maybe. It’s been a few days of muddled dreams and drugs that Judy has a hard time pin-pointing how much time has passed and what all went on during the time that passed.

So Judy nods. Then she remembers she can speak. “Right.” Her own voice sounds foreign. “Thanks.”

Nick looks relieved. “It’s been so long so I’ve heard you speak, I was wondering if you’d forget how to talk,” he teases. But then he seems to remember what startled everyone in the first place and his brow furrows. “Why were you screaming?”

Judy can still feel her breath running a little ragged, like she’s just ran a marathon. It doesn’t seem too far a stretch to consider, especially when she feels how soaked her hospital gown is with sweat. She feels sticky and hot and _frightened_ and time is still muddled; she been in the hospital for days but Bernard’s attack was _seconds_ ago, it has to have been because her dream was so real it has to be true, and it all makes her just a _little_ nauseous—

She cries out for a bedpan and the nurse barely gets it in her paw before she throws up.

 _Throw up_ is a…kind phrase for what she does, if that association is even possible. She has nothing in her stomach from her surgeries and fluid diet that it’s mostly dry heaving and just a little bit of stomach bile.

When she’s done, Nick takes a paw and rubs circles onto her back while her nurse takes the bedpan away to clean. “I guess you aren’t very hungry,” Nick says just a little woefully. “I brought you your absolute favorite meal in the entire world to celebrate getting your chompers back,” and nods to the small white take out bag on the chair in the corner of the room. “A pumpernickel bagel with honey almond smear, a clementine, and a giant mug of piping-hot ginger tea.”

Judy closes her eyes and tries to wish away the churning feeling in her stomach.

He sighs, rubbing at his neck. “Maybe you can eat it later. So, why were you screaming?” Nick asks, a little softer this time. He leans into her bed and grabs her paw. “Something hurt?”

Her pride, for one thing. “I…” she still isn’t used to her own voice, and she doesn’t like the new shake it seems to have. “I had a nightmare. Sorry.”

“That’s okay, hon,” the nurse says as she checks over her vitals. “Anesthesia can do that, don’t worry about it.”

Judy isn’t so sure she can.

Nick looks like he wants to say something, but apparently decides it isn’t worth bringing up at the moment. Silently, Judy is grateful. Eventually, Nick decides on asking, “Is there anything I can get you before I head back to work?”

“No,” and her voice is _small small small._ “I’m tired. I….want to sleep.”

“Okay,” Nick says, pulling back and she swears he looks _pained._ “Get some rest. I’ll come over tonight. I’ll bring you something else to read. Any requests? Cook books?  A biology textbook? Another one of Clawhauser’s favorite erotica novels?

She doesn’t answer, only shakes her head no.

“I’ll surprise you,” he says quietly before he leans in and kisses her between the ears.

He leaves her room and she falls back asleep.

  

* * *

 

When she wakes again, it is pitch black.

But only for a minute or two; the next thing she knows Nick opens her door a crack and slips in like he’s on the sneak or something. He turns on her light and flashes her a toothy, mischievous grin as he adjusts the messenger bag on his shoulder and then she knows he’s _definitely_ on the sneak.

“What are you doing?” she asks as he fetches a wheelchair in the corner of the room.

“What’s it look like? I’m breaking you out.” A pause. “Well sorta. I intend to bring you back in an hour or two.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, my dear Judith. Now come on, let’s get you in this wheelchair before someone comes to check up on you.”

Judy isn’t entirely sure why she doesn’t argue, but she allows Nick to help her in the wheelchair and be wheeled out of her hospital room. She doesn’t ask questions as they roll down several hallways and towards the elevator. Nick presses the up button instead of down, but Judy still holds her tongue until the elevator opens two floors up—the top floor—and he wheels them up.

Aside from her current extended stay, Judy has only been to Zootopia General one time: she was visiting a patient, a panda named Charlie, that had been hurt from a robbery that Judy had reported to. His injuries had been minor, so much in fact that when Judy reported to his room to see him, had already snuck out to the top floor lounge area.

It instantly became her favorite spot in the city.

Zootopia General is uphill, and when combined with a twelve story building and floor to ceiling windows on the top floor, it creates a dynamite view. Judy loves to search out the best views in Zootopia, and Nick knows this: and he also knows her favorite views are the ones that can be seen at night.

She’s never been to the lounge room at night.

The floor is empty and Judy deduces that it must be the middle of the night for the lounge to only have a single aardvark sitting alone in the far corner, sleeping. Nick wheels Judy to the center of the panorama window view.

For the first time since she’s woken in the hospital, the word _beautiful_ comes to Judy’s mind.

Bunnyburrow at night is breathtaking. The sky feels infinite, a star for every bunny she knows and more, and that’s a lot of stars. There’s a new shape to be seen every night, a new story to be told every passing season, and it’s so _bright_  that you don’t even need a lamp to walk outside: the ground is lit with starlight and moonlight.

Zootopia isn’t like that.

But it’s still _bright._ The city never sleeps, it’s never quiet, and the lights come in all different sizes and colors, stacked on top of each other up the tall skyscrapers in a contest to see who can shake hands with the moon itself. Animals walk under lamplight, some holding hands, some talking on the phone, and some, beyond what she can see, are doing harm.

It’s scary, sometimes. But still beautiful.

Judy doesn’t say any of this out loud.

“Quite a view, huh?” he reaches into the messenger bag he’s been carrying and pulls out the meal he had mentioned earlier: pumpernickel bagel with almond honey smear, a clementine, and a mug of ginger tea.

She’s not very hungry, but judging by how warm the bagel and tea is, Judy knows he went out and got her _another meal,_ fresh, just for her. So she doesn’t argue. With her good arm, she decides to nibble on the clementine first just to see how her stomach will take the change in diet after a month of torture.

Nick pulls up a waiting chair beside her wheelchair and plops down before he reaches into the bag and pulls out _his_ favorite snack: a parfait and a can of cola. He snaps the cola can and lets out a delighted sigh as he take a long, gratuitous sip.

She takes a bite of the clementine and pulls a face; she hasn’t chewed in quite some time and it feels _weird,_ but she manages to correct her expression into something neutral before Nick asks and starts to worry.

But as she glances his way, she thinks it might not have even been a problem. Her partner is so enthralled with the view, it almost feels like she can wheel away and he won’t notice.

“I really like the Gazelle billboard,” he tells her, and her ear, the one with the rip, tweaks his way. “I know that’s a cheesy choice, but it’s the biggest and the most colorful. Plus, the pictures move and change. It’s cool. But, with all that technology, you’d think they’d advertise someone other than Gazelle with it.”

“Can I have the tea?”

Nick hands it to her. She takes a sip. “Zootopia’s a big place,” Nick continues, “There’s got to be another City Sweetheart out there, just waiting to be discovered and slapped on a moving billboard for a…is that an iPawd ad?”

Judy’s eyes drift from the Gazelle billboard and down to the simple lit signs above the shops. She sees a neon purple one for a new café right next to a quieter, closed electronics shop.

She blinks slowly and looks away.

“You know, I think _I_ could do it. I mean look: I’m handsome, I’m charming, I have a fantastic backstory and I helped you solve the NightHowler case. Slap a harmonica in my hand and I could stand toe to toe with Gazelle and maybe even sell _twice_ the iPawds she could. Don’t ya think?”

Judy sits there in silence, playing with the peel of her clementine.

Then—

“I don’t want to go back to Bunnyburrow.”

His ears perk up and the light bouncing around in the city reflects in his eyes. He cocks his head to the side. “Whatcha mean?”

She continues to play with the clementine peel in her lap before she lifts her eyes and looks down at the city; her eyes immediately hone in on the café and electronics store she saw earlier. “When I get out of here,” and it seems like such a far-fetched dream, like the tall-tales her father told her when they looked up at the stars to find patterns. “I don’t—“ her voice cracks from the disuse, “I don’t want to go back to Bunnyburrow.”

“To recover? Not even for a bit?”

“No. I want to stay here.” She forces herself to look at him, at least a glance. “Can I stay with you? For a while?”

“Of course,” he answers immediately. "You can always stay with me, no matter what."

Judy nods, says a thank you that barely leaves her lips, and looks back down at the view.

She isn’t sure how she feels, not entirely. Judy knows that police work is out of the question for a bit—it’s taken her time, but she can finally admit that she can’t handle it right now. But going back to Bunnyburrow…it feels like when she resigned during the NightHowler case. It feels….it feels like giving up.

It doesn’t feel _right._

“Middle ground is good,” Judy says, mostly to herself, but Nick catches it anyway.

“Middle ground?” he repeats.

All she knows is that she can’t go back to how things were. Judy knows that things will never be as they were again. How....how can they be the same? But while police work is what was _before_ , so is Bunnyburrow. Bunnyburrow is further back in her life, but it’s still _before._

So she has to find a compromise. She has to find something new.

She has to find middle ground.

Judy finishes her tea in front of the window and doesn’t say another word all night.

Neither does Nick, but when he wheels her back to her room and puts her to bed, he leaves her a book as promised: a crime novel.

She leafs through the pages, but can't bring herself to read it just yet.

So, she sets it on her bedside table and goes to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she can talk!!!! That's something, right? I hope the direction I'm taking it is becoming clearer now. I know you've been worried about poor old Jude, but she's gonna get there, don't worry.


	7. part seven

“Okay, I just want to go over a few things with you before you’re discharged.”

Judy moans, just a little, and it makes Nick let out a breathy laugh from his Cool-Guy position of leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed. Dr. Manor looks quite amused as well as he adjusts his glasses on his face and gives Judy a small smile.

“I want you to keep the brace on your arm, but you can move it around. Continue to do the exercises that Dr. Cedar’s gone over with you and try not to lift anything too heavy with it until you’re due back for a follow up. Your leg, however, needs minimal use for a few more days. Use the cane whenever you have to take a quick shower or climb a few stairs, but Judy? You need to stay in that wheelchair as much as you can until you return for your follow up, okay?”

The last part is directed more so at Nick than Judy; he gives him a thumbs up and a wink.

“Don’t worry, doc, she’ll be cooped up in my apartment bored out of her mind for another week, I’ll make sure of it.”

Judy grumbles, but doesn’t argue.

“All your follow ups have been arranged, as well as your physical therapy appointments.” Dr. Manor grabs a pen from his front pocket and scribbles down on a notepad he has on his clipboard. “I’m writing you a prescription for an anti-depressant,” he pauses as he rips the paper off the pad. “It should also treat your anxiety. If it makes things worse, or the physical side effects are a little too intense, stop taking it and give me a call, we’ll work something out.”

While she knows she shouldn’t, Judy can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. She herself has noticed her own perpetual, sullen mood and constant panic but she hasn’t really acknowledged it to a point where it becomes an actual diagnosis. That, for whatever reason, makes it feel more permanent and tangible, something that will not go away on its own—

 “I don’t want that,” Judy finds herself saying. “I don’t…I don’t _need it,_ I can….I can—“

“Judy,” Dr. Manor says softly. “It’s medicine, the same kind you take for a cold or a flu. It’s just for your brain. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She stares at the paper and remembers her promise about being a better patient. Accepting the prescription doesn’t mean she has to _fill it out,_ doesn’t mean she has to _use it,_ so she takes a deep breath and says, “Okay.”

“Good. Pain pills are the same as you’ve been taking, take them when needed. Both should be taken with a little something to eat. Any questions?”

She shakes her head no.

“If that changes, let me know. You have my number, so does Nick. Don’t hesitate to call, no matter the time. Aaaaaand,” he drags out the word, looking at his clipboard. “I think that just about covers it. Let’s wheel you out of here, shall we?”

There’s a few more paperwork that she and Nick sign before they actual get down the hall, down the elevator, and out the hospital. But it isn’t until they’re strolling past the front garden towards the parking lot does Judy realize Nick doesn’t have a car. “How are we getting home?”

Finnick has perfect timing as his loud, rickety van comes to an unusually slow and steady stop by the pickup/drop-off curb. He turns off the car and jumps out to greet them.

“Hey, Judy,” he says. He can’t quite look her in the eye. “I’m glad to see you’re doing better after…” He winces like he’s ruined everything, even though he hasn’t. “Uh, yeah. I’m just gonna….” And he trails off as he points to the back and goes to open the doors to the van.

“Finnick’s lending us the van,” Nick explains as his former con partner makes room for Judy’s wheelchair.

She blinks, and looks towards the open window of the driver’s side. “Aren’t there only two seats?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Don’t you worry ‘bout me, girly,” Finnick says. “I’ve got some business to do around here, then I’ll catch the bus home.”

Judy frowns. “No, I can’t let you—“

“It’s fine,” Finnick smiles, finally looking her in the eye, if only briefly. “I owe Nick a favor.”

“You owe me at least three more.”

“Yeah, whatever. Get in the van before I change my mind.”

Nick helps Judy into the van while Finnick goes around back and folds up her tiny rabbit-sized wheelchair and puts in the back amongst red-stained containers used for popsicles. Judy immediately leans her head out the open window, her ears fluttering in the light breeze.

As Nick climbs onto the driver’s side, Finnick circles back and opens the passenger’s side door once more before he practically climbs a baffled Judy’s lap and begins fiddling with her seatbelt. “This one’s weird, you gotta tighten it or else—“

“I know,” Nick chuckles. “I usually sat there, remember?”

Finnick grunts and double checks the clicking mechanism. “Just want to be sure.” He looks at Nick and points a threatening finger his way. “Drive slow, asshole.”

“Aww, see?” Nick coos. “He likes you.”

Finnick snarls, but doesn’t disagree. “’course I like her. Everyone does. So drive _slow_ or I’ll bust your ass.” He checks the seatbelt a third time before he finally hops down and closes the door.

Judy looks down from out the window and smiles. “Thanks, Finnick.”

“Feel better, Judy.”

Nick does drive slow, maybe just a little bit more than he does on their patrols, and starts to head home. She sticks an arm out the window and lets it catch the breeze, relishing in the fresh (albeit slightly muggy) air. In fact, she relishes it so much she doesn’t realize they drive past Nick’s apartment until he’s pulling into a pharmacy.

It seems he’s not going to let her argue on getting the prescriptions filled out. He uses his own money to pay for all her medications, most likely in an attempt to guilt trip her into taking it. But she doesn’t feel all that guilty taking money from Mr. 200 Bucks a Day Since I Was Twelve.

He laughs, and then she realizes she’s said this last part out loud. “I’m gonna make you pay me back for that comment,” he teases. “A grand sum of 200 dollars.”

“We’ll see about that,” she says, half-heartedly and closes her eyes as the wind hits her face.

The first thing Nick does when he gets her settled inside his one bedroom apartment in central is open all the windows. He doesn’t have many, just a little one over the sink and a long, wide one in the living room. While he’s fluffing up cushions and pillows he promises her she can take his bed, but he thinks she’d like to be in the living room for now, since the TV is out there.

“It’s fine,” Judy promises. “Don’t worry.”

He sighs, only a little, before he sits on his coffee table and grabs the first orange canister of pills. “Need a pain pill?”

She tries not sounding desperate. “Yeah.”

Without another word, he unscrews the white cap and shakes a single pill out into his paw. As he hands it to her, he grabs the anti-depressants and gives the bottle a little shake. “What do you think? Should you take this now, too?” he squints as he reads the instruction label, holding it close to his face. “Same time every day….I swear he said something about morning? Did you hear that? But it doesn’t…it doesn’t say—“

“I’ll just start it in the morning,” Judy says, deciding for him.

Nick doesn’t look too convinced as he sets the bottle down and tries to give her a stern look. “Judy—“

“I’ll start it on the morning,” she repeats, and she knows that Nick will give in.

He does. “Alright,” he says without _too_ much remorse. “So! What’s on the agenda for today?”

Judy blinks and looks behind his shoulder to the window outside—all she can see is the sidewalk. A family of warthogs walk by. “Don’t you have to go to work?”

“Nope, got the day off,” but she sees how his eyes drift to his kitchen counter which is littered with memos from his latest case file.

“If you need to work, go ahead,” Judy says gently and with the best smile she can muster. “I can just read some more.”

Nick must have a lot of paperwork, because he doesn’t argue any further. “Okay. If you get bored, feel free to turn on the TV, it won’t bother me.” He hops off the coffee table and goes to grab his files. “You gonna read that novel I brought you?”

“No,” she answers quickly, maybe too quickly. But it’s probably all in her head. “Actually, do you still get a paper?”

“Weirdly enough, I do,” he replies, mouth full of raspberries he had left in a bowl on his counter. He walks over to a rickety side table by his door and goes through a pile of mail to grab what must be today’s paper. “Old Man Nick still likes his newspaper. That new ZooNews app is always crashing. Maybe that’s my phone’s fault.”

She knows this. He tosses her the paper before he heads over to his fridge, grabbing another handful of berries. “Do you want anything to eat? I was going to make dinner in an hour or so.”

“I can wait,” she says, opening the paper with the intention of taking out sections she doesn’t want to read: but then she sees them.

Obituaries.

It could have been her in that paper just a few weeks ago. She looks at the names, the pictures, the stories and vaguely wonders what would be written for her, and who would write it. Her mother? Her father?

Her eyes glance Nick’s way, who has already delved into his work, one paw cradling the side of his head as the other scribbles what is surely to be an unreadable note of his.

Maybe it doesn’t matter. She didn’t die, so maybe there’s no use thinking on it.

After reaching for a stray highlighter on the coffee table, Judy flips through the pages and starts looking for job ads.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t remember when, but she dozes off.

It’s those damn pain pills. They work wonders on eliminating the pain, but they knock her right out. It’s nighttime, maybe just so, and she can hear the shower running. She looks down to see she’s been covered in a blanket and the newspaper has been folded and moved to the coffee table, the ads she’s circled in yellow highlighter on top.

Judy’s content to just lay there until Nick emerges from the bathroom, pajamas on and a towel to his ears. “Heya, sleepyhead. I was just about to carry you to my bed and take the couch.”

She gives him a sheepish smile. “I’m pretty cozy here. Can’t I stay?”

Nick’s smile is sly in return. “You’re just saying that so I’ll keep my bed.”

“I really am comfy.”

He chuckles, low in his throat, and comes to tuck the blankets more tightly around her. “Okay. You win,” and he bops her on her nose. “You slept through dinner. I’ll warm it up for you.”

Judy watches him return with a stack of banana pancakes. “Breakfast for dinner. And because you’re my favorite, I will allow you to eat this sticky mess on my nice vinyl couch.”

She’s not extremely hungry, but God, does Judy want a taste of those pancakes. They smell amazing. He watches her nibble and pick at it before he nods to the paper. “You already lookin’ for a job?”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” she tells him as she, quite frankly, shovels more pancakes into her mouth.

“Will you get that silly idea out of your head?” Nick says with fond exasperation. “You aren’t a burden. But tell me: what job do you want?”

She pulls a face. “The pickings were slim—“

“I mean it,” he interrupts. “If you could have aaaaaany job in the world,” he reaches over and snags the bite of pancakes she was just about to eat right off her fork, “What would it be?”

_Police Officer_ has been the default for several years. She’s never wanted to be anything else. And because she’s Judy Hopps, she didn’t stop until she achieved that dream. However, since that’s not the case any longer, Judy doesn’t really have an answer. “I don’t know,” she admits.

Nick nods sagely as he licks the sticky mess off his fingers. “That’s okay. Luckily, now that you’re taking some time off, you got plenty of time to figure it out. You trust me?”

“Yeah.” She answers easily enough. “But what does that have to do with—“

“I’ll find you something you like,” Nick nods, like he’s talking to himself. “Yep. I’m gonna do it. I know everyone, remember? Leave it to me. We’ll find something just right for you, don’t you worry.”

Judy takes another bite. “What are you thinking of?”

He waggles his brow. _“A surprise.”_

“Nick,” she whines, “Haven’t I suffered enough with the surprises?”

“You act like I have a bad streak with the surprises; you liked the last one, remember?” He has a point there, one she can’t argue against. “This is gonna be a _fun_ surprise, I promise!”

In an undignified manner, Judy shovels a big bite of pancakes into one side of her mouth and chews vigorously as she gives him a cross look. It must look ridiculous to Nick, because he’s trying not to laugh at her. “Whatever,” she concedes, deciding he can win this one. “Do you have time to watch a movie?”

Nick looks back at his stack of papers and hisses with uncertainty. “No, but I’ll watch one anyway. I can sleep when I’m dead. Whatcha want to watch?”

“Bonnie and Clydesdale.”

“A bunny after my own heart. Say no more, I’ll get it set up. You eat the pancakes.”

As with all movies, Nick fills most of it with commentary. Judy especially loves watching Bonnie and Clydesdale because it’s funny to listen to his cop commentary as well as his former con-man advice. The result is his nonstop chatter, but it puts a smile to her face.

A smile that stays until the movie fades to black and she falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonnie and clydesdale. i am hi-lar-i-ous 
> 
> ok, I think about four, maybe five parts left? next up, judy's gonna be trying some new jobs, so we'll see how that goes ;)


	8. part eight

Judy’s back at the hospital before she knows it.

It’s only for her scheduled check-up, but it still feels too soon. And yet, she finds herself looking forward to it the morning of her appointment. She’s been cooped up in Nick’s apartment for so long it's beginning to feel like being in the hospital again. A different hospital, but still a hospital. So even a trip to a _real_ hospital feels like a break from...well, everything.

She gets a look over and Dr. Cedar removes her arm brace and tells her she’s almost back to normal, save for the leg. She tells her she can ditch the wheelchair and stick to a cane, as long as she isn’t on her feet all day and takes it easy for another _month._ It sounds like a boredom sentence in Judy’s opinion.

Dr. Manor arrives in his usual purple scrubs and white hospital coat, but this time with a new pair of glasses. He pulls up a stool and sits in front of the computer to pull up her extensive file and medical history. “Okay, Judy, let’s get right to it: how’s the pain been?”

“Manageable. The pain meds work just fine.”

“Do you take them every day?”

“No. Only a few times, mostly before I go to sleep.”

“Arm still hurt?”

“My arm feels fine. It’s just my leg. And my head.”

That makes him pause. “Your head hurts?”

“Yeah, but I assumed it was just from the skull fracture.”

He shakes his head and looks back at the computer, making a note she can’t read. “It might be, but it could also be a side-effect of the anti-depressant. Have you noticed any other symptoms?”

Now Judy’s all flustered. “Oh, no, I…uh. I’m not taking the anti-depressant.”

“You stopped?”

“No, I,” she winces, “…never took it to begin with. I’m sorry.”

Judy watches as Dr. Manor makes a note in her chart, but his facial expression doesn’t give her any clue as to what he thinks about that little tidbit.  “How severe are the headaches?”

“They really aren’t that bad,” and Judy means it.  “They don’t make me nauseas anymore.”

“That’s good,” and Dr. Manor looks pleased. “I think we can take you off prescription pain meds and switch over to over-the-counter. If you think you need something stronger, come back in and we’ll scan your head again and reassess.” He logs out of Judy’s file and spares her a glance. “But be careful. You can’t take every pain medication with your anti-depressants. Ask a pharmacist if it’s compatible before you buy it. You know,” he flashes her a small smile, “If you decide to take them, that is.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says a little numbly.

“So,” Dr. Manor fiddles with his glasses. “What have you been up to since you’ve been home?”

“Well,” Judy sighs and swings her feet back and forth from the exam table she’s sitting on. “I’ve….watched Bonnie and Clydesdale like, four times.”

He laughs. “I’d pin that as one of Nick’s favorite.”

“It is. He can’t stop talking whenever it’s on.”

Dr. Manor laughs again. “What else? Read any more books?”

“No,” she admits, thinking to the crime novel she abandoned. “But I got a job. I start this afternoon, actually.”

“Oh?” He looks genuinely surprised. “Already? You think you’re ready for that?”

She knows he’s just helping: it’s his job. But it still feels patronizing—she chalks it up to her wounded pride due to all that she’s been through and brushes the sour feelings away. “I’d like to give it a try,” Judy says with what she think is appropriate wording.

“I’m very glad to hear that, Judy,” he says, expression softening. “What will you be doing?”

She twiddles her fingers before giving a tug to her ear, the one that now has a permanent rip. “Um,” she clears her throat. “I’m working in a flower shop. Mr. Otterton? Down on 32nd street?”

“Can’t say I can recall at the moment but it sounds like fun.” He leans forward, looking intrigued. “I’m sure it’ll be nice to be in some familiar territory, dealing with flowers and all. You had a big garden back in Bunnyburrow, right?”

“My mom grew roses,” Judy says offhandedly before she tries to steer the conversation back to her new job. “I’m helping the Otterton’s with their shop as well as with events. Delivering flowers to….uh, weddings and parties and…” she trails off, her mind suddenly going blank. “….um.”

Dr. Manor gives her a funny look. “Have you been experiencing memory problems?”

She deliberately delays her answer as she looks out the small window in the exam room. It isn’t much of a view, but she can barely see a few trees from the front garden down below. She sees an overgrown rose bush. “No, not really,” she finally answers, looking back at him. “I just got distracted.”

“You get distracted a lot?”

Judy sighs, bringing a paw up to rub at her forehead. “No,” she answers a little crossly, and immediately regrets it. “Sorry, I….” she clenches her jaw. “Are we almost done? I don’t want to be late.”

“Sure,” Dr. Manor says softly. “We’re almost done. Just one more thing.” He hesitates, and Judy predicts she isn’t about to like what he’s going to say. “Now that you’re check-ups with me will start to taper out, as they should, I wanted to know if you were considering setting up appointments with a psychiatrist.”

Judy’s chest feels tight.

“No,” she says immediately. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Judy—“

She hops off the exam table and straightens the lapels of her flannel shirt before she grabs her cane. “Is that all?”

Dr. Manor sighs. “Yes, that’s all.” He offers her another smile, this one a bit weary. “Have a good first day of work, Judy. Call me if you need anything.”

As fast as she can manage, she hobbles out of the room and down the hallway with intent to take the elevator down and out to the parking lot.

She ends up taking a detour to the lounge just to look at the view.

 

* * *

 

“Thanks so much for the help, Judy,” Emmett Otterton tells her as starts wrapping up the hose that he uses to water the plants that sit outside the shop and hang above the window. “I hope it’s not too much work with your leg and all,” he says, looking nervously at her cane.

“It’s not a problem,” Judy promises, and she means it. Occasionally, she has to get up and stretch for some hard to reach flowers, but Emmett usually comes from the back where he’s arranging flowers to help get it down for her. Otherwise, she sits on a stool behind the register and plays with stray flowers that have fallen off along the way.

“Well, I’m glad it’s kind of a slow day,” Emmett admits. “Didn’t want your first day to be a slam. That’s never fun!”

Judy shrugs, indifferent. She kinda wishes it had been a busy day. More for her to do. But oh well.

She reaches down behind the counter to mess with her phone. “Maybe—“ she’s cut off when the bell on the front door rings to signal a customer’s arrival. “Hello, welcome to Otterton’s Flowers, what can I—“

She freezes, the words dying on her tongue.

“Hey there,” the first customer, a lion, says, slipping off his baseball cap in greeting he shoves it in the large, brown, fuzzy paw of his companion.

A bear.

“We’re here because he messed up,” the lion continues with a laugh and a teasing jab at the bear. The bear laughs as well, albeit nervously, before he gives Judy a shy smile.

She doesn’t notice it.

She’s too busy staring at the baseball bat in his hand.

“I forgot about a date with my wife. Went to play a company baseball game with this scoundrel instead,” he explains, making a playful swipe at the lion, which he dodges. “I’m gonna need the nicest flowers you got.”

“Max, there aren’t enough flowers in the world to get you out of this one.”

“Henry?”

“Yeah.”

“Shut up.”

Both laugh these great, big, _booming_ laughs. Judy startles, bumping her bad leg against the counter and she yelps in pain.

“Judy, you alright?” Emmett asks quickly, rounding the counter to help her.

She doesn’t trust her own voice to answer, so she just nods. Her paw handles a death grip on her cane and she stands as tall as she possibly can, even though her eyes can’t look anywhere else other than the damn floor. "What are you interested in?"

“Well,” Max sighs as he looks around the shop. “She loves daisies.” Judy manages to lift her eyes and look to the corner of the shop where Emmett keeps said daisies. “But,” and he lifts the baseball bat and uses it as a pointer. “What about those? I think she might like those.”

Max points to the special rose bouquets that Emmett makes, which they happen to keep right behind where Judy is currently standing; which means, the baseball bat is flung in her direction and Judy shrinks, cowering on the floor with a small yelp.

“Oh, whoops, sorry,” Max says quickly. “My bad. Wouldn’t want this flying out and hittin’ you in the face, right?” he laughs.

“Look how tiny she is—it’d kill her! No wonder she ducked; you scared the shit out of her, man.”

“Okay, I didn’t—whoa. I think you’re right.” Max stops. “Hey, listen, Miss, I’m really sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Judy can _hear_ their voices, but she can’t bring herself to lift her head. She can feel her entire body shaking but she can’t get off the floor. Her vision starts to spot and the voices around her start to bleed together, but she can tell they grow more frantic with each gasp of breath she takes.

“Oh god, is she okay? Can she breathe?”

“Is she….is she having a seizure? What’s going on?”

“What do we do?”

“Judy? Judy, can you hear me?”

“Did I do something? I don’t understand—“

“You didn’t do anything, sir. You’re fine. But can you call the police and ask for an officer Nick Wilde?”

“Yeah, right away.”

There’s more noise after that, but none of is looming over her so she focuses on trying to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Over and over again, she tries to tell herself that she’s okay, that she’s safe, no one will hurt her here, in a flower shop. That’s why she got this job, right? No one hurts a florist.

But then again, someone targeted Emmett Otterton.

He had been poisoned. He had been attacked. And as a result, he had attacked someone else.

“Judy?”

Emmett touches her shoulder, gently, and images of him on all fours, savage and angry flash before her eyes.

His touch feels scary, stings like a burn, and she yelps again.

Judy startles him and she knows this, judging by how far he jumps back. A part of her feels awful. She knows, she _knows,_ Emmett doesn’t deserve this but the other part of her knows she can’t help it. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t stop freaking out. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t catch her goddamn breath.

With another gasp of breath, she begins to cry.

“Nick’s on the phone,” Emmett says softly. “Judy, he’s on his way. Do you want to talk to him while he gets here?”

Judy can’t stop crying long enough to answer. At this point, she can’t recognize what are the remnants of her panic attack and what is the beginning of her budding shame. God, she feels _ashamed._

So she wails.

Eventually Nick gets there. She doesn’t know how long she’s been lying on the floor crying like an _idiot,_ but Nick gets there. He’s still in uniform when he picks her off the ground and carries her to the backroom of Emmett’s shop and sets her down on the couch he has in there. Then, he crouches in front of her and lays both paws on top of hers.

“You’re okay,” he says quietly. “I got you. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobs. She says it over and over again.

“Sssh, it’s okay. Just take deep breaths and—“

“I can’t!” Judy sobs. She’s _hysterical_ as she looks up at Nick, eyes red and probably as puffy as they were the day she was admitted to that hospital. “Don’t you get it? I can’t control this! I just freak out!”

Nick’s mouth is a firm line, but his eyes are on fire with emotion. He grips her paws tighter. “It’s just a panic attack, it’ll pass—“

“Until the next one,” she grits out. “And the next one and the next one and the _next—_ Nick. _Nick._ Is it always going to be this way?”

It’s not fair what she’s asking him. His face crumples with heartbreak, complete with glossy eyes and limp ears. He swallows thickly. “Judy—“

“It’s _embarrassing.”_ She whispers, voice hoarse. “To be so scared. I don’t want to be scared anymore. He—the bear. The bear and the lion, they were _nice,_ they were just here to buy flowers they weren’t going to hurt me but I freaked out anyway. He just had a baseball bat in his hand and I freaked out! I can’t live like this! I can’t handle it!”

“Carrots…”

“It doesn’t make sense! I’m scared sometimes, others I’m not. I’m scared of some predators, and others I’m not. I’m never scared of you which is good, I’m glad, but it doesn’t make sense and I don’t...” She grabs both her ears in frantic frustration and tugs them. “…how do you treat something that doesn’t make sense?”

“Judy—“

“Nick,” she sobs, his voice a prayer on her lips, “What do I do? How do I fix it? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Please. What do I do?”

He stares at her, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“What do I _do_?” she whispers before her face crumples and she starts to cry again.

Nick yanks her down and cradles her to his chest, and they sit on the floor of the flower shop in a tangled hug. “You just have to keep trying,” he whispers, pressing a fierce kiss to her cheek. “Remember what I said in the hospital room all those weeks ago? I won’t give up on you. But you can’t give up on yourself. Give it time and keep trying.” He kisses her on top of her head. “Keep trying.”

In her hysteria, she says what’s been plaguing her for days. She rubs her nose into his shirt. “What if it never goes away?”

“Well,” and he heaves a sigh, taking a moment mull over his answer. “I have faith that it will. But Judy? If it doesn’t? That’s okay. We just have to find a way to deal with it.”

“How?”

“You have to listen to your doctor, Judy.” Nick is kind in his reprimand. He begins to rock her back and forth, much like one would rock a child to sleep. “Those pills work, I’ve seen it.”

She manages to twist her head to look up at him. “Yeah? Did…did you take them?”

Nick shakes his head. “No, but my dad did. He, uh,” he struggles for the words for a moment before he continues. “The world really got him, made him really sad, you know? I don’t know, it’s more complicated than that—you know that—but he couldn’t find work. My dad was a real entrepreneur type. Wanted his own shop, but no one would lease property to a fox or invest in his ideas and it really broke him. So he took them.”

“And they worked?”

Nick nods. “They did. They aren’t magical happy pills or whatever, but it makes whatever you’re going through…. _manageable,_ I guess. So you have the means to make the changes you need to try and get the life you want back.” He shrugs. “All I know is, he was better with them, even though he was embarrassed to take them. But he shouldn’t have been. And neither should you. Okay?”

Judy sniffles and then realizes that she’s _breathing_ again. “You never talked about your family before.”

He snorts out a laugh and gives her a flick of her ear. “ _That’s_ what you took from that little speech? The state of my own personal baggage? Man, I really gotta work on the emotional rallying.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

“You know what? I’m glad I told you, too.” He pulls back to she can see his face and he grins. “Feel better?”

She nods, wiping her eyes with the back of her arm. “Physically, yes. I’m still embarrassed, though.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nick waves her concern away. “If anyone gives you a hard time, I’ll give them a citation or something.”

She laughs a pathetic, weak laugh, and then decides now is as good a time as ever to get her crippled butt off the floor.

Her cane is in the front room of the shop, but Judy takes a deep breath and walks as best she can back to the register. It’s the least she can do for her own dignity, considering she’s most likely fired for the spectacle she starred in today.

But instead, it’s almost closing and Emmett hands her the cane while he gives her a smile she doesn’t feel she deserves.

“See you in the morning, Judy.”

She grips the cane tight with one paw, and follows Nick out of the shop to go home.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Judy wakes up before Nick for a change and manages to make them each an omelet before he has to head back to work.

Nick sets the table with a bowl of blueberries, a jug of orange juice, and her medicine beside her plate, just as he has every other morning since she’s been there.

Only this time, Judy takes a big swig of orange juice and swallows the pills without complaint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heavy chapter, I know. The next one shouldn't be so bad. Some more familiar faces should be in that one! Plus more Nick and Judy, everyone loves that! Judy's gonna be fine guys, I promise!


	9. part nine

Nearly a month later, Judy finds herself helping Mr. Otterton set 50 tables with flower arrangements for one of the largest weddings he’s done in a while.

Judy doesn’t recognize the names on the invitations at first, but then Emmett shows her an engagement photo of the happy couple on his face and she immediately sees the family resemblance: Clawhauser’s sister is getting married. She and her son-to be husband work together for the ZFD. They’re an interspecies couple (she being a cheetah and he being a leopard) but thankfully, there is not enough of a difference to draw attention or cause a social stir in Zootopia. Abigail and Luke are free to marry in peace.

It seems the happy couple chose to spend a majority of their money on the flowers—Judy doesn’t blame them. Their taste combined with Emmett’s eye creates dozens upon dozens of stunning flower arrangements that Judy assists with placing on white table cloths down long, wooden tables in the giant hall they’ve rented out.

She’s almost done after a four hours when she feels someone tap on her shoulder behind her. In her peripherals, she sees a flash of red fur and smiles.

But to her surprise, she turns around to find it’s not the fox she expects to see.

“Gideon?” She blinks as he gives her a dumb grin. “Hey. Wow. Long time no see.”

“Hey there, Judy!” He’s beaming, rocking back and forth on his heels. He’s ditched the overalls and apron that she saw him in last time in favor of an outdated navy suit—the sleeves are a little too short, and she can see the light pink color of his dress shirt underneath. But she still thinks he looks very nice. “Fancy meetin’ you here, huh?”

Come to think of it, he’s right. It’s strange that he’s here.  However, she uses her detective skills to piece it together. “Are you….are you catering this wedding?”

“Sure am! Not quite sure how they heard of me all the way out here in Zootopia, but I sure am grateful. Though I reckon it’s ‘cause of you.”

“Me?” Judy blinks rapidly.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, the bride’s brother is a police officer, said she got the recommendation from him. So I assumed.”

Oh yeah. Clawhauser has tried Gideon’s pie. He loves it.  “Right. I guess I forgot.”

“I don’t blame you,” Gideon grimaces. “I heard about what happened to you from your Ma and Pa. They said you’d been through hell and back. I’m really sorry you had to deal with that.”

“It’s okay,” Judy says automatically, smiling at him. “I survived didn’t I?”

He returns her smile with much more enthusiasm than she has given. But then the smile fades to make way for a confused, furrowed brow. “What are you doing here? Don’t you gotta work at the station?”

“Oh, uh,” she says softly, so softly Gideon doesn’t even catch it. “I’m still injured. I gotta take more time before I can be reinstated.” She gestures at the flowers around them. “And you know me, I like to keep busy. So I have another job for now.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Gideon laughs. “I ain’t never seen you sit still for more than five minutes. Well, I sure am glad that you’re doing well.”

_Doing Well_ feels like jumping to conclusions, but Judy can admit to herself that the phrase isn’t all that far from the truth. She’s doing _better._ It’ll take more time for her medication and therapy to start making a more recognizable difference, but she already _feels_ a teensy bit better. It’s a good start.

"So," she says, trying to start the conversation up again. "You staying in the city for long?"

Gideon nods. "I'm here for another two days. I'm takin' a bakin' class tomorrow. Tryin' to learn a new recipe or two, you know?"

"That sounds like fun!" Judy says. "I've always wanted to learn how to bake; Mom was always pretty good, but I burned everything."

He laughs a little. "Well, they're teachin' Baked Alaska tomorrow, if, uh, you're interested?" he squirms a little.

"Is that the thing they set on fire?"

"Sure is."

"I just might join you."

They exchange a few more pleasantries before Judy excuses herself to finish her jobs and leaves Gideon to finish the food tables. She nicks her paw on probably half-a dozen rose thorns before she decides that the reception hall looks nothing less than perfect. After she checks with the Otterton’s in the ceremony hall to see if they need any more help, they wave her away with bright smiles and tell her to go ahead and doll up before the guests arrive.

Because of their association with the Clawhausers and the ZPD, Judy and the Otterton’s were invited to the wedding. Unfortunately, not all of the ZPD or the ZFD could be invited (the station couldn’t be empty, after all) but Judy was able to use her +1 status to get a certain fox cop out of work on one particularly sunny Friday morning.

She’s waiting on the curb outside the building when Nick finally strolls up, a garment bag draped on one arm. The sun is bright, but she can still see that he’s already changed and looking quite handsome.

“Someone sure cleans up nice,” Judy grins. Nick always had an-off beat sort of style, but today he keeps it classy and stylish: grey slacks, pale yellow suspenders, and a floral teal tie.

He gestures up and down, giving her a little spin. “When don’t I?”

“Well, right now, for one thing,” she sighs heavily, her eyes honing in on his sleeves. “When you don’t roll your sleeves up properly.” He’s rolled them unevenly and they sit crooked on his arms. It's a common occurrence and it drives her _bonkers._ “Are ya ever gonna learn to do this right?” and she gestures for him to stand closer.

Nick has this dopey, crooked smile on his face as he watches her fix the sleeves on his white dress shirt. “Did you know that your country twang comes out when you’re frustrated?”

“No,” she lies, smoothing out his sleeves. “Did you bring me my dress?”

“No.”

“…No!?”

“No, because, I bought you a _better dress.”_

He holds up the garment bag and drags the zipper down, revealing a breezy teal dress that Judy can admit is _pretty_ and all, but is just a nice a dress as the one she owns that she asked Nick to bring her.

“At first, couldn’t decide what shade of orange would make you look most like the loveable carrot you are, but,” he scrunches his face and shrugs. “I decided against it. You have to look your best if you’re going to be on the arm of such a handsome and dapper fox.” Nick waves the garment bag back and forth and the fabric catches the wind.

It _is_ really pretty, and not something she’d normally pick out. When she takes it out of the garment bag she notices the structured collar and small front pocket and appreciates that Nick knows her well enough to pick out something she likes. But she’s not going to a _dmit_ he has good taste, not after she’s spent months ragging on his tourist beach chic look. So what she says is:

“It matches your tie.”

He nods. “Of course. It was that or the suspenders.” And he reaches down to pluck said suspenders. “We have to match if we’re going to win Prom King and Queen.”

Judy smiles wryly at his jab. “Wouldn’t want to outshine the bride and groom.”

“That’ll happen regardless of what we wear,” Nick scoffs. “ _We’re_ going to be there,” he emphasizes, waving a paw between them. “So,” he shoves the dress her way. “Hurry up and get changed. I have a crown to collect.”

Judy isn’t one for make-up (especially now that she doesn’t have to use it to cover up bruises or cuts) so getting ready doesn’t take long. After she changes in a public restroom and catches her reflection in the mirror, she notices that the teal is a _scary_ match to Nick’s tie that Judy has half a mind to go borrow some stray flowers and make a corsage and boutonniere: she knows how, seeing as she works at the shop.

She thinks, eh why not, and does it anyway.

It’s worth it to hear Nick’s single, belly-grabbing cackle as she saunters back to pin a white rose to his suspender before they go to take their seats. “Pardon my language,” he tells her as she fiddles with the pin, “But this is the _cutest_ thing you’ve ever done.”

Judy shakes her head with amusement. “I’ll let it slide considering how cheesy it is.” Her laugh is much calmer, but not any less genuine as she has Nick help tie the make-shift corsage around her wrist with a stray rose and a yellow ribbon.

The wedding ceremony is nice: short, simple, sweet. Benjamin bawls like a baby up at the front: so do the rest of the Clawhausers, judging by the sniffling her big bunny ears can pick up. The ceremony is so swift, that Nick nor Judy even has time to fidget in her seat.

The reception, however, is a total chaos.

The good kind of chaos: the kind of chaos with an open bar, open buffet, and drunk relatives starting a conga line. Well, technically _Nick_ starts the conga line, but he doesn’t stay in it too long. Instead, he joins Judy at their table with a plate high of desserts and a small, raspberry-colored stain on his tie.

“You gotta try this slice of cake,” Nick moans, sliding it her way. Judy recognizes it instantly as one of Gideon’s, and takes a big bite: it certainly doesn’t disappoint.

“That’s good,” she says, mouth full of food. Nick doesn’t acknowledge the comment the way she imagines due to the fact that he’s too busy shoving another sweet in his mouth: looks like the slice of pie is hers for the taking. She takes a moment to enjoy his unapologetic face-stuffing and laughs when he washes it down with a glass of champagne.

“You’re drunk,” she tells him, but there’s no reprimand in her tone: only stating a very amusing fact.

His smile is dopey. “Only a little.” He sneaks another bite of the wedding cake off the plate in front of Judy. “If you ever get married, let that Gideon guy make the food. This stuff is amazing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she chuckles.

“Hey, Judy?”

“Yes, Nick?”

“Would you marry me?”

If this was one of the many cheesy romantic novels that Nick has been giving her to read in her spare time, the female protagonist might gasp with wide eyes and an open jaw before she drops a glass or plate or _whatever_ in shock. But luckily for her, this is her life which is less dramatic.

Well. Okay. Not less dramatic. But at least it’s not a cheesy romance novel, and this isn’t an actual proposal. So she answers appropriately.

“Sure,” she nods, picking up some of Nick’s drunken energy with a loose bob of her head. “I’d marry you.”

He blinks, looking surprised as drops an elbow on the table and rests his head in his paw. “Really?”

“Yes,” she laughs at the shock on his face. “You’re someone worth loving and marrying Nick. Anyone who really knows you can see that.”

Nick’s shock melts away for soft adoration, complete with lidded eyes and a warm smile; and it’s only then that Judy feels a little squirmy under his gaze. “You know,” he says softly. “I wasn’t lying about the progressive thing.”

It takes her a moment to catch up to speed, with him staring at her like that. But when she does, her grin nearly splits her face in two. “You’d be Nick Hopps?”

“Yup,” he says decidedly, plucking a chocolate covered strawberry in his mouth. “And you’d be Judy Wilde.”

_“Really.”_

_“Carrots,”_ he says with mock exasperation, “We can’t kill the Hopps-Wilde brand. This is the best solution.”

“Wouldn’t keeping our names be the best solution?”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” he chortles, handing her a chocolate strawberry. “And just think. This way, we can save the precinct a little money and just switch name tags.” He nods to himself, licking a finger clean of frosting. “Oh yeah. I’m a genius.”

Ever since Judy started her florist job, she has to admit that the idea of returning to work…hasn’t been on the forefront of her mind as much as it once was. I mean, of course, she’s going to go back to work. That’s the plan, it’s what she wants.  She just…can’t see when that will be.

It’s a slight damper on what is a really fun day, so she pushes those thoughts aside.

“We could have a secret wedding and then switch name tags without saying anything, see who notices it first," she offers.

Nick nods enthusiastically. “My bet is Clawhauser notices first, Bogo notices last.”

“You don’t think our boss would notice something like that?”

“He barely looks at us in roll call. He could _attend_ the wedding and he still wouldn’t notice.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ridiculous is that you would deprive me of a wedding with an open bar and the best tasting wedding cake I’ve ever had with your economical _secrecy._ You’re a buzz kill, Judith Wilde.

Judy laughs.  “Terribly sorry, Nicholas Hopps. I’ll try to do better.”

Nick scratches at his cheek, feigning deep thought. “You could start with dancing with me? You didn’t dance at the last wedding we went to.”

“Oh yeah,” Judy realizes, “We’ve already been to a wedding together, haven’t we?”

“Crummy first date,” Nick grouches, “Not enough _cake.”_

“Hmm. Nick, I can’t dance.”

“I don’t buy that. Don’t y’all square dance every second Tuesday of the month or something back at the farm?”

“It’s the third Tuesday,” she quips, “and that doesn’t mean I can dance.”

Nick beams as he hops out of his chair. “Well then, I’ll just have to teach you.”

He grabs her wrist and attempts to tug her to the dance floor. “Nick, my _leg—“_

“Only for a few minutes, I promise! I’ll even do the sprinkler.”

“…is that the thing that Bogo did at the Gazelle—“

“Oh yes.”

“...Fine,” she concedes, and Nick beams. “Five minutes.”

However, five minutes turns into an hour and by the time Judy and Nick get back to his place, her leg more than hurts. Nothing a pain killer can’t fix, but it still isn’t pleasant. And while she’s sober and tired, Nick is giddy and a little drunk, which is amusing, but emotionally draining. She finds it takes a lot of energy to keep up conversation with a tipsy Nick.

“God, that was fun,” he declares, shedding his tie and heading to his bedroom to change. “But you were right, you can’t dance.”

Judy stomps her good foot on the floor. “I told you—!”

“Nice attempt though,” he sighs and she can imagine him scratching at his full belly. “I haven’t had a drink in a few weeks.”

As Judy fumbles for the zipper on her dress she realizes Nick probably hasn’t had much of a chance to unwind since she landed in the hospital. “Is work stressful?”

“Nah,” he says from the other room. “I just have a little extra work, with you being gone and all. But it’s mostly busy work, nothing real stressful.”

She’s glad that Bogo isn’t giving him _too_ much to do. But he’s right. He’s going to be tired and busy until she can make it back to work _God-Knows-When._

Judy is a much faster changer than him and is already in her pajamas on the couch when Nick returns to the living room, stifling a yawn. “You still okay sleeping out here?”

“You ask that every night.” She starts grabbing the extra blankets stored in one of his bookcases and begins making her makeshift bed on Nick’s couch; he’s quick to help. “I’m fine.”

Nick pouts and starts to fluff up her pillows. “It just doesn’t seem right that you don’t sleep in a bed. You’re the one that got hurt.”

“But I’m not hurt anymore, not really,” and then it dawns on her: she isn’t hurt anymore. There isn’t really a reason for her to stay at Nick’s apartment anymore. “I guess that means I should leave soon, huh?”

“Noooooo,” Nick moans dramatically, jumping on the couch and laying an arm over his eyes. “I’m going to be so _lonely._ You're the best roommate I’ve ever had. " A pause. "Actually, you're the only one I've ever had.”

“Then by default, I'm also the worst roommate you've ever had." 

“I’m too drunk for this logic,” he laughs and Judy is just fine with that. She’s probably too tired to listen to him argue himself out of it. “Anyway,” he takes his paw off his face and looks at her. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay as long as you want. Drunk Nick and Sober Nick agree.”

That makes her giggle again. “Thanks, but don’t you think I should be on my own?”

He shrugs. “Things don’t have to go _exactly_ the way they were before your attack for you to feel normal, you know? In fact, I doubt that things will ever be the same.” He looks at her and grins, tongue poking on. “Knowing you, you’ll continue to make lemonade out of lemons. Things won’t be the same but, that just means they'll be even better, yeah?”

Judy wrings her hands together, suddenly feeling shy. “You really think that?”

“Of course,” Nick says easily. “You make everything better.” He waggles his brow. “It’s your Do-Good curse.”

She rolls her eyes, but can’t manage to wipe the smile off her face. “Whatever you say,” she says softly, but her heart is soaring, just a tad. “Now get off my bed, I want to go to sleep.”

“Mmmkay,” Nick sighs. He wastes a few moments dramatically huffing and puffing before he heaves himself off the couch, back popping. “Night, Carrots.” Drunk Nick is just a tad bold, so he cups one of her cheeks before pressing a loud smack of a kiss to the other. “Love you.”

She manages to kiss the back of his paw before it falls nearly limp to his side. “Love you, too.”

He goes to his room and she hears the springs of his mattress scream when he inevitably dives on his bed. His voice his muffled by a pillow when he yells, _"I can't believe I didn't win Prom King!"_   and then she hears him snoring less than two minutes later. Judy records the noise on her carrot pen, grinning and fighting giggles the entire time, before she follows suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She has her bad days but look, she has good days too!! I wanted to give her a fun day, so here it is. Thanks so much for all the comments and kudos guys, I'm blown away!!!


	10. part ten

“Alright Judy, you’re all clear,” Dr. Manor tells her with a click of the computer mouse.

She momentarily wonders if she remembered to clean her ears out in the shower this morning. Ever since she got injured, Judy has been dreaming of the day where they gave her the all clear. No more doctor appointments, no more medications, no more _poking_ and _prodding;_ and all it took was sixteen agonizingly long weeks.

“So no more cane?” she asks tentatively because if it’s a dream and she’s just _imagining_ it, better to go ahead and pop the bubble before her hopes soar straight to the moon.

“No more cane,” Dr. Manor answers. “You’ve made a speedy recovery—congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she says automatically. But then she’s at a loss. This is it. She’s done. She can….start getting ready to go back to work. Sixteen weeks is a long time; it should be more than enough time.

But Judy finds herself wondering if she still needs more.

The nightmares are still there. No, she doesn’t wake up screaming, struggling to find her breath, but there’s always a split second of pure terror that makes her wonder if she’ll ever be fit for duty. As for the panic attacks during the day, those aren’t as frequent or severe as say…the one that happened on her first day of work as a florist. So that’s manageable.

Then there’s the florist job itself. Judy _likes_ her job. She’s also picked up new hobbies like cooking classes and a book club. Those things are fun, she likes doing them. Sure, she doesn’t like them as much as she likes being an officer, but the trade-off is she is less likely to get beat within an inch of her life so she thinks, okay _liking_ one’s job isn’t as great as _loving it,_ but that’s okay, isn’t it? Tons of people can barely tolerate their own jobs so really, is it that bad?

But then again, the job that she worked for so hard, the job she _adored,_ the job she had with Nick, is waiting for.

The job that nearly killed her.

Maybe her mom is right. Maybe she can’t go back.

It’s the same roundabout conversation she’s had with herself ever since she and Nick went to that wedding. Eventually her thoughts start to run together and she gets so _frustrated_ that she just picks up her phone and looks up trending ZooTube videos just so she can laugh at someone else’s misfortune for a change.

However, Judy isn’t at home on Nick’s couch so she settles for an audible sigh that is a _little too audible._

“Something the matter, Judy?” Dr. Manor asks.

“No,” Judy says but then she feels bad for lying. “Yes? I don’t know.” She rubs at her head.

“Does your head hurt?” he looks concerned as he gets up to check it out.

“It’s not that kind of headache,” she says kindly, giving him a weary smile. “I’ve been thinking too much.”

Dr. Manor lets out a small chuckle. “It happens to the best of us.” He adjusts his glasses and asks, “What’s on your mind Judy?”

“Oh, no,” she rushes to say, waving her paws. “Thank you, but you don’t have to hear me jibber-jabber. That’s what my therapist is for, right?”

He shakes his head. “You’re still technically my patient until you walk out of this room, which means your well-being is still my primary concern. Besides,” his smile widens. “I like hearing you talk. I didn’t get to hear you speak much when you were admitted, remember?”

Judy smiles sheepishly in return.

“So,” he continues, “Do you like your therapist?”

“She’s okay?” Judy says with a shrug. “We just talk about boring stuff. Like what I do at work and what books I read.” Her eyes drift to the ceiling in thought. “I don’t really know if that’s helping? But it’s nice?”

Dr. Manor shrugs as well. “That’s for you to decide. But remember: just because your therapist is nice doesn’t mean she’s helping you. It’s okay to look for another one.”

Judy doesn’t want another one. She doesn’t one want to begin with. But she knows that she can’t get a grip on reality without that or the pain medication, so she puts up with it. Though maybe, Dr. Manor has a point. If she isn’t helping she should look for someone else or just…set up a different sort of support system.

_Support system: see?_ She thinks to herself, _Therapy is working in some respect._

“Did you ever read that book that Nick brought you?”

Judy shakes her head. “What?”

“There was a mystery novel he brought you that sat on your side table when you were at the hospital. It was the only one you didn’t read,” he tuts, feigning disappointment, “I was hoping you would so you could tell me if it was worth the read.”

Ah yes, the cop book. “No, I haven’t read it,” she says. But Judy knows exactly where it is: it’s moved from a side table to Nick’s coffee table, and then to her large messenger bag she's been carrying these days. Either way, she hasn't even read page one. She glances at her bag where the book remains. “I’m sure it’s decent though,” she attempts to deflect the conversation from _cops_ and her _job_ and _what is she going to do now_ because she really doesn’t want to deal with it. “It’s a John Goatsham book.”

Dr. Manor has a suspicious twinkle in his eye. “Perhaps. But you’re the one with real life experience. You could tell me if all the facts are right.”

“I doubt that.”

“Oh I bet you could. But if not, maybe with more experience? Do you plan on heading back to the precinct anytime soon?”

Judy opens her mouth to say something vague and deflecting, but her jaw ends up hanging loose, words lost on her tongue. For some reason she can’t bring herself to say _I don’t know_ or _We’ll see_ so after a few moments of silent stuttering she asks, “What are the odds of me getting hurt again if I return to the force?”

To his credit, Dr. Manor accepts the answer rather smoothly. “Well, odds are you will end up in the hospital again. You might break another bone, need some stitches, but,” he gives her a lopsided smile, “I doubt you’ll get hurt as badly as you were before.”

“Right.”

“I think you knew that though, Judy,” Dr. Manor points out kindly.

“….Right,” Judy repeats, this time slumping with a deflated breath. “I do know that.”

“But,” Dr. Manor continues, and her ears perk up. “Knowing something and _accepting_ something are two very different things. It’s okay to still be scared.”

Judy pouts. “It doesn’t _feel_ okay. It feels _silly.”_

He laughs at what must be a childish look on her face. “If it makes you feel any better, you seem like you’re doing better. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah,” she tells him and it doesn’t feel like a lie. “I do feel a little better.”

“Good,” he says with a deciding nod of his head. “Keep doing what you’re doing, stay on your medication, and I’m sure you’ll only see more improvement.”  He picks up a pen that’s on the table and clicks it closed before he deposits it in the front pocket of his doctor’s smock.

He’s heading for the door when Judy blurts out, “Can I ask you something?”

“Certainly,” he tells her and comes back to sit in his chair. “What’s on your mind?”

She wrings her paws together. “Do you think…it would be best if I move back in my apartment, or should I still stay with Nick?”

Dr. Manor sighs, looking at a loss. “Well, physically, you’re fit to be on your own but other than that, I can’t decide that Judy. That all depends on how you feel: you said you feel better. If your nightmares and panic attacks are something you can handle on your own and you want to be more independent, then go ahead. But if you still feel you need to stay with Nick or some other friend, that’s fine too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Funny,” Judy murmurs, “Nick said the same thing.”

“I’m not surprised. Nick’s a good friend.”

She whines a little. “Why can’t you just tell me what to do like you have been for the last several weeks?”

Dr. Manor laughs. “Doesn’t seem fair, does it? Don’t worry, I have full faith you’ll make the right decisions.” He extends his hand for a handshake, which she accepts. “Have a good day, Judy.”

He leaves her alone in the exam room and Judy finds herself staring out the window in thought for a good ten minutes before she leaves.

 

* * *

 

She makes it to the bus stop, and paws at the crime novel in her bag, trying to decide if she should read it or not when her phone rings and the screen is lit up with pictures of her parents. The bus stop is surprisingly busy for the time of day so she takes a few steps back, hoping the bus won’t be five minutes early or anything while she takes the call.

Judy doesn’t even get out a greeting before her father says in his stern, paternal voice: _“Now, Jude, I gotta tell you something and you have to promise not to freak out.”_

She doesn’t _freak out_ per say, but that greeting is enough to make her heart sink into her stomach. “What’s wrong?”

Stu sighs. _“There’s been…an incident.”_

The cup of cafeteria coffee she nabbed from the hospital before she left crinkles a little in her grip. “What? What happened? Is everything okay?”

_“Everyone is alive and gonna be okay, I need you to know that,”_ Stu tells her and it makes Judy relax significantly. _“But…Clover got hurt real bad, honey.”_

The sinking feeling comes back. “H-how—“ she clears her throat, trying to swallow the tight feeling away. “How bad?”

_“Well you know how good she is with machinery and how much she loves fixin’ the farmin' equipment and well, Old Man Hank needed some help with his auger and—“_

Judy imagines the worst and gasps, dropping the coffee.

_“Calm down. Only her paw got caught. I imagine if Andy weren’t so quick it’d have been a lot worse, but Jude…”_ her father sighs. _“Her paw is broken, and ...she lost a finger.”_

“She lost a finger!?” Judy screeches. Everyone at the bus stop turns to look at her, so she moves further away, bus schedule be damned. “How is that anything close to _okay!?”_

_“Jude—“_

“I’m coming home.”

_“Now look here honey, she’s fine, she’s okay, there’s no need for you to—“_

“I’m. Coming. _Home,”_ she snarls definitively before she hangs up her phone.

Instantly, she opens Safari and checks the train schedule for the next one going to Bunnyburrow. She audibly growls in frustration when she sees that the next train leaves tonight at _six,_ which is _seven hours_ from now.

Driving there only takes a bit under four hours. It will be faster to take a cab.

Judy races, she _runs,_ to a main road while she calls the cab service to pick her up. It feels good to run, to have people actually step out of her way not out of pity, but because she’s _fast_ and _determined._ Hell, she’s so busy running she doesn’t even notice that she told the cab to pick her up on corner of that new coffee shop next to the electronics store.

There’s no time to dwell on it since the cab conveniently pulls up right then and there. Judy hops in, going through her bag to make sure she has her phone and her wallet to pay for what will be a pretty expensive cab ride. “They said you don’t mind driving up to Bunnyburrow, correct?” she asks, closing the door and fiddling with her seat belt.

“Not at all, Miss,” the driver says, and the voice is a lot deeper than she expects. She looks up and her eyes widen as the cab driver pulls back into traffic to get on the highway.

The cab driver is a bear.

“Hey,” he says, looking at her through his rear-view mirror. Judy can see him perfectly through her wide-eyed, terror-stricken eyes. “I know you.” He smiles, showing all his _sharp sharp teeth._

But Judy keeps it together, at least on the outside. “Y-yeah?”

“Sure do. You’re the bunny cop, aren’t you?” His eyes keep flicking back and forth between her reflection in the mirror and the road. “You solved those missing mammal cases.”

She nods. It’s been nearly two and a half years since the missing mammal case, but people are still picking her out of crowds to acknowledge her for it.  "I helped, yes."

He hums in response before his brow furrows. “You looked urgent, what’s back in Bunnyburrow?”

“My sister,” Judy blurts out, “She got hurt on an auger.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” the driver says. “Don’t worry—no unnecessary stops. I’ll get you there as quickly as possible.” A pause. “Within the speeding laws, of course.” he laughs.

But Judy doesn’t care about that right now. She’s not a cop, not right now, so he can speed as fast as he can, faster than Flash, faster than the shallow breaths she’s taking—

No. She will not hyperventilate in this cab.

“Actually,” Judy pipes in, clearing her throat. “Do you mind if we stop at a gas station before we get out of town? I need to, uh,” she doesn’t have an excuse. “…get something.”

“Sure,” the cab driver tells her and he pulls over a mile down the road.

Judy’s legs feel shaky as she climbs out of the car. She tries not to look frantic as she walks into the gas station and heads immediately to the back where they sell drinks and self-serve slushies. The air is cold and it feels good as it blows on the back of her neck and she takes a few minutes to compose herself.

“Breathe,” she whispers aloud to herself. “It’s fine. You’re fine. He’s a bear, yeah, but he’s nice. He’s just a driver.” Her breaths get slower, more controlled. She reaches into the fridge and grabs a cold green tea before she rounds the aisle looking for the licorice sticks. “You’re fine. You can do this. Clover needs you.” She nods to herself, impressed with her own pep talk. “Yeah…Clover needs you.”

She feels a little better, a little stronger. So, Judy pays for her things and hustles back to the cab.

“I didn’t have lunch,” she explains, “and I didn’t want you to have to hear my stomach rumbling the entire time.”

“No worries,” the driver says, pulling back onto the road. 

Judy takes a sip of her tea before she opens the package of candy. She takes a bite and chews it thoroughly before she grabs another one and holds it out. “Would you like one, Mr…uh..”

“It’s Frank,” he tells her, “and I’d love one. Thanks.” He takes her offering. 

Judy nods and leans back in her seat. The scenery eventually tapers out to grassy plains with mountains in the far distance, which is nice, but it gets old pretty quick. Her breathing is level, she's not in any danger of a panic attack but she's still  _nervous,_ nervous for her sister, nervous of the driver, nervous of  _herself_ and she needs a distraction so Judy reaches into her bag, pulls out the crime novel, and begins to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it may not seem it, but it's actually almost over!!! I thought I'd be finished by now, but I don't want to rush her recovery so I've outlined it and I think three more chapters and since I have work off next week, It'll definitely be finished sometime next week!!
> 
> Thank you so so much for all your kind words! I haven't gotten so many thoughtful reviews on a fic I've written in years, and y'all's responses are really making writing this so much fun! 
> 
> PS: someone asked about Judy's medical expenses and her apartment rent, which will be noted in the future but it's not a secret: I decided that Zootopia's healthcare has it mostly together so she didn't have to pay out of pocket for most of it, and as for her apartment, that's being taken care of by the precinct, and will probably be brought up in the next chapter or so. Thanks guys!


	11. part eleven

They arrive at Bunnyburrow in just under four hours. At first, Judy doesn’t even know they’re pulling up her drive-way; she’s so engrossed in her book that the cab has to make a complete stop before she even looks up.

“We’re here,” Frank tells her.

Judy hustles to stuff her book back in her bag and hand him the amount of money he’s due. “T-thank you!” She squeaks, before she nearly kicks the door open and runs to the front steps of her house.

“I hope your sister feels better!” Frank calls before he puts the car in reverse and starts backing out.

There’s a few siblings of hers on the porch, excited and surprised to see her. It seems to be the youngest of the bunch that tackle her in a hug. At first she wants to berate them for climbing all over her, but then she realizes: none, absolutely none of them, have seen her since they heard she had been attacked back in Zootopia.

A lot of them are crying.

“Judy!” her brother Zach cries. “I missed you so much!”

“I—I missed you guys too,” she tells him, returning the hug.

“Mom and Dad said you almost died,” her sister Zoe cries.

Judy blinks. “Oh, uh…” It’s _kinda_ true, now that she thinks about it, but it isn’t something a ten year old needs to be thinking about. “…they were just worried. It looked a lot worse than it felt, Zo, I promise.”

“…yeah?” she sniffles, still latching on to her middle in a tight hug.

“Totally,” Judy plays with her younger sister’s ears, giving them a gentle tug. “See? I’m all better. Do I look hurt to you?”

Winnie points up. “Your ear has a big chunk missing.”

“It’s not that big,” Judy promises. “And I can hear just fine with it. So it’s not really hurt, you know?”

Will’s eyes go wide with realization. “Are you here because of what happened to Clover?”

“Yeah,” Judy says, her eyes drifting to the front door as she tries to comfort the three siblings practically glued to her, hugging the life out of her. “Is she here, or all the way at the hospital?”

Her brother looks confused as he tilts his head to the side. “She’s _been_ home. The accident was over a week ago.”

Judy has been prepared to hear a lot of possibilities, but this is _not_ one of them. “What do you mean—?”

“I heard Ma and Pa talking with Clover the other night,” Zoe explains, “She didn’t want them to tell you. Something about not stressing you out or something.”

Judy’s ears droop.

Meanwhile, the kids try to decide just what’s been stressing her out. “Do you have a new case?” Zach asks. “Is it another kidnapping?”

“Oooooh, what if it’s _murder!”_

“Are you solving a murder?”

Judy is caught between the overwhelming chatter of her siblings and her _anger_ with her parents and Clover. “No, I’m not solving a _murder_ , I'm-” she sighs, frustrated, and wiggles out of her siblings holds. “Can you—is—ugh. Does Clover still have her room?”

“Yep!”

That’s all Judy needs. She wills herself not to kick down her parent’s own front door and storms inside, ignoring the calls that, “Judy! Judy’s here!” and heads straight to Clover’s room.

She’s intercepted by her parents, who hear the commotion from the kitchen.

“Jude!” Her father calls, looking bewildered. “Gosh. You weren’t kidding when you said you were comin’, huh?”

“Nope,” Judy says sourly, crossing her arms and thumping her foot on the floor in irritation.

Her mother wipes her paws on her apron. “I didn’t think you’d be coming in until later, the train said it wasn’t leavin’ til—“

“I took a cab,” Judy cuts Bonnie off. “Mom. Dad. The kids told me that Clover got hurt over a _week ago.”_ She scrunches her face and hopes she looks angry. Nick always tells her it’s just adorable, but here's to hoping. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?”

“Honey,” Bonnie soothes. “I—Your father and I—we both wanted to tell you, but—“

“Clover was insistent,” Stu sighs, puffing out his cheeks and letting out a long breath. “She really didn’t want you to know. I just couldn’t take keepin’ it from you and decided to tell you today.”

“Why?” Judy whispers, feeling hurt. Although there was a five year age difference between the two of them, Clover and Judy were quite close, closer than a lot of her other siblings.

“Well,” Bonnie winces in anticipation of what’s about to be said, “We told her about your injuries. We told all of ‘em. All the kids were heartbroken, you know?”

“That’s _garbage,_ I’d been discharged from the hospital when the accident happened. That’s no excuse!”

“But,” her father chimes in, looking just as guilty, “It wasn’t just broken bones, you know? All them panic attacks—she didn’t want to give you another one.”

Judy opens her mouth to retort, but Bonnie cuts her off. “She’s really okay, Judy. She didn’t lose that much of her paw and she’s already talking about getting back to gardening.”

She wants to say more, but she ends up tongue tied. Judy doesn’t want to fight with her parents, that’s not why she came all the way over. She wants to see her sister. “Can I just talk to Clover?” Judy whispers, rubbing wearily at her forehead.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Stu tells her, patting her back and stepping aside to clear the hallway. Judy loses the desire to run down the halls and instead takes a much slower pace to where Clover’s room is.

She definitely knows it’s the right one when she knocks and Clover yells from the other side, “Johnny, if that’s you with the water gun again, I’ll kick your ass!”

Judy’s laugh is one of relief: at least Clover is still Clover. “Not Johnny,” she says, “It’s Judy.”

There’s some muffled swearing and then Clover shouts, _“Don’t come in!”_

She opens the door anyway. “I know about your paw,” she explains, closing the door behind her. “You can take the pillow off your arm.”

Clover’s wide eyes melt away to reveal angry, lidded ones. “I told Mom and Dad not to tell you.”

“Yeah, well,” Judy shrugs and comes to sit on the edge of Clover’s bed. “What are you going to do?”

Clover is silent as Judy takes a careful look at her younger sister’s arm. After so many months in the hospital with casts of her own, she’s confident she knows how to look at one without causing her pain. “Does it hurt?” Judy asks, but when she looks up she finds that Clover is staring at her like she’s seen a ghost.

“Incredible,” she whispers, and uses her good arm to reach forward and touch Judy’s cheek. “It’s like you were never hurt, I…” she stunned, shaking her head. “Aside from the ear, I would have never _guessed.”_

Judy gives a wry smile. “It’s been about four months. That’s a long time to heal.”

“Four months,” Clover whispers, and she starts to tear up. “It took _four months?”_

As much as she’d like to tell her she hasn’t been hurt for four months, Judy realizes that today was the first day she was cleared to walk without a cane or walker. So maybe lying isn’t the best route. “But look? I’m all better.”

She taps the side of Judy’s head. “Even up here?”

“Clover—“

“They told me,” Clover swallows thickly and Judy wonders if she’ll continue, “They told me that you were so scared all the time, that you freaked out and I—I’m sorry, Judy I didn’t want to see you like that. Maybe that’s selfish, but I didn’t want to _cause_ a panic attack for you—“

“Yeah, it _was_ selfish,” Judy snaps, but it doesn’t have all that much bite to it. She pushes Clover’s paw away. “You wouldn’t have wanted Mom and Dad to keep what happened to me from you, would you?”

“But that’s different—“

“It’s not different.” Judy cuts in. “I’m your big sister. It’s my job to worry about you. To care about you. To help you.” She reaches up and gently yanks Clover’s ears like a good big sister should. “You have to tell me these things. I want to know everything major, the good and the bad.”

“Judy,” Clover sighs, giving a little chuckle. “I don’t expect you to just drop everything and come just ‘cause I got hurt—“

“This is important. I’ll always come running when it’s important, okay? This isn’t scratches and stitches, Clover; you lost some of your _paw.”_ She points to the injured arm in question. “Hell, since it can’t heal, I’d say it was even _worse_ than what I—“

“Don’t,” Clover interrupts, tears spilling over already glossy eyes. “Don’t say it.” She takes a wobbly breath. “I’d stick _both_ my paws in an auger if it meant you never got attacked like that.”

Judy isn’t expecting that. Her eyes go wide, but she still reaches to wipe Clover’s tears away out of sisterly habit. “You don’t mean that, don’t say that. It wasn’t that bad, I already told you I’m healed—“

“I saw the video,” Clover sobs, her face an ugly, crying mess. “It was all over Zootube for a few days, did you know that? Everyone saw it,” she cries. “He tossed you like a _bag of flour—“_

The images start to flash in her mind and Judy does whatever she can to push them away. “C’mon don’t cry,” she soothes. “It’s over. I’m healed. It’s like it never happened.”

Clover seems to realize that the mention of the attack was a mistake, so she doesn’t go on to describe it any further. But she doesn’t completely drop it, either. “I can’t imagine,” she whispers. “How scared you must be in that city. With so many animals so much bigger than you are.”

Judy hesitates, trying to find the right words. “I….I’m—“

“You are so brave,” Clover whispers, awed and _amazed._ “You really never give up, do you?”

There’s a hitch in Judy’s breath. She feels the brave face and weak smile she’s trying to put on start to crumble and bows her head, praying she won’t sob. Judy paws at Clover’s comforter and squeezes the fabric tight, hoping that her body isn’t shaking as much as she thinks it is.

“Shame though,” Clover says eventually, and Judy lifts her head when she hears the brassy tone in her sister’s voice start to return. “If I had lost the whole hand, I could have replaced it with a hook and become a pirate.”

Judy laughs at the image and discreetly wipes her eyes. “We don’t live near the ocean.”

"Lake pirate."

"Boring."

“Okay, fine. Urban pirate. I’ll move to Zootopia.”

“We’d be natural enemies: pirate vs cop.”

“Oh, but what a good story that would be. They’d make a movie about us, I’m sure of it.”

They both burst into laughter at the image of them starring in a movie together, and the joke runs out of steam after that. They switch over to more light conversation and they talk and talk until the sun sets over the horizon. And the entire time Judy notices that she can’t stop fussing with Clover’s blankets, fixing her pillows, or checking her bandage. Eventually, she notices that the glass of water by her bed is empty. “Do you want more water? Or maybe tea? I can go make you some.”

Clover shakes her head, amused. “You don’t have an off switch, do you?” she wiggles both her feet under the blankets. “I didn’t break my legs, I can walk to the kitchen myself.” To prove her point, she starts to get up, but Judy pushes her down on the bed again.

“Yeah, but your hand was just mutilated, so maybe you should take it easy?”

“You’re ridiculous,” But Clover yawns in what looks like is just a cover up for a wince or a groan. Her arm probably hurts something fierce. “Can you make Earl Grey?”

“You got it.”

As she heads to the kitchen, Judy reflects on how good it feels to help someone else for a change. For so long, she’s had to accept she’s been a charity case but now? Now she’s 100% physically fit for duty, and her mind isn’t that far behind, if today’s cab ride was any indication.

She practically stares at the kettle boil the water when it hits her:

Judy _misses_  helping. She misses protecting the community. She misses the feeling she gets when she’s stopped crime or protected someone.

She misses what was _before._

“Juuuuuuuudy!” Winnie comes skipping into the kitchen just as Judy is pouring the hot water of the tea bag. “Nick’s here.”

“Okay,” she says without thought. “Let him in—wait, _what?”_

Leaving the tea to steep, Judy marches out of the kitchen, and down all the halls to get to the front of the house where, sure enough, Nick is here, lying on the floor in a pile of his younger siblings.

“Careful Judy Juniors and Juniorettes,” Nick wheezes, “You’re going to crinkle the uniform.”

He’s still in uniform. That must mean….

Judy steps over Nick and walks to the window; she peeks through the blinds to see that he’s _driven the cruiser straight to Bunnyburrow._

“Nick!” she cries, exasperated. “What the heck are you doing here? And with the _cruiser!_ ”

“Currently?” He coughs. “I’m suffocating. Can you call off the giggling guard bunnies?”

She lets him suffer for a few more seconds before she starts peeling them all off. She tells Zach that Johnny is somewhere with a water gun and that makes them all go running, looking to pick a fight. Judy then leans down and offers her paw to help scrape what’s left of Nick off the floor.

“I saw my life flash before my eyes,” he quips, dusting himself off and adjusting his badge. His face turns serious, features etched with concern. “So, how’s Clover?”

“She’s fine. But Nick,” Judy sighs, cradling her head with one paw. “I called you and told you not to worry.” And she had. About halfway through the cab ride she remembered that Nick was going to need to be caught up to speed, so she left him a voicemail on his phone.

“I know, but,” Nick shrugs. “I couldn’t just let you deal with this on your own.” He gives her a soft smile. “You sounded really upset on the phone.”

“Did I really?” Judy whines, embarrassed. Bunnies, so emotional, it would appear. “Aw, man. Look, it was probably the bear—“

“The bear?” Nick cuts in. “What bear?”

She blinks, “Oh, uh,” and scratches the back of her head. “The cab driver was a bear. I was a little on edge the entire time, but I held it together.”

Nick’s smile broadens. “Really?”

“Really, really.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Me too.” She does some quick math in her head. “How’d you get here so fast?”

He looks at her like she’s stupid. “I put the sirens on and slammed on the gas. Cuts the ride time in _half_.”

“Nick!”

“It was an _emergency.”_

“A personal emergency doesn’t count.”

“Hmmph. Counts in my book.”

Suddenly, Judy feels very, _very_ tired. She doesn’t want to argue with him any further. “Do you want some tea? I’m about to bring some to Clover.”

“I would love some, thank you,” he smiles, and saunters straight past her to the kitchen.

Clover, like all of Judy’s other siblings, has come to absolutely adore Nick. He’s only been to Bunnyburrow a whopping _two_ times, but it only took the first ten minutes of the first visit for all the kids to decide he’s way cooler than he actually is. Nick tells Judy he wants to bring in the tea and practically kicks Clover’s door open with a high-pitched and terrible bourgeoisie impersonation with the declaration of “Tea Time!”

It sends Clover in a fit of giggles as Nick continues to babble on in what he thinks must be the voice of how old rich ladies’ talk. He carefully pours the tea and asks her about her day before he drops the silly persona and tugs Clover’s ears the same way that he tugs Judy’s. “How’s my partner’s favorite sister? I heard you got a booboo arm.”

Clover pouts dramatically. “I’m only Judy’s _second_ favorite sister.”

“What a coincidence,” Nick says, “You’re my second favorite sister, too.”

Judy rolls her eyes and goes back to fluffing up Clover’s pillows. “I’m fine, I’m fine: Juju!” she yelps, and she can feel herself blushing at the old childhood nickname. “Cut it out!” she laughs.

Nick looks absolutely _thrilled._ “Juju?” he repeats, eyes bright with mirth.

She points a finger threateningly his way. “If you ever call me that, I’ll make sure your paw matches Clover’s.”

“Ouch.” He lays his own paw dramatically over his heart. “So cruel, Juju.”

If she wasn’t so tired, she’d fight him.

After that, Nick pulls out a deck of cards—the same glitter monstrosity that he used at the hospital—and does a few card tricks to amuse the patient before he starts to see her eyes droop with weariness.

“Okay, kiddo, maybe it’s time for bed.” Nick tells her, wrapping the blanket up around her. “You got everything you need? Any medication that you need to take before we count ourselves out?”

Clover gives him a dumb grin. “You took such good care of Judy,” she sighs dreamily. “I can tell. Thank you.”

Nick looks a little embarrassed and to tell the truth, Judy’s sure she doesn’t look too far off as well. “Anytime. G’Night, Clover.”

“Night, Nick. Night Judy. Thanks for—“ a yawn. “—stopping by.”

“Of course,” Judy whispers, heading for the door and switching off her light. “Sweet Dreams, Clo.”

After some quick greetings to her parents and another swarm of her siblings trying to get in their hugs, Judy takes Nick all the way to the back of the house and beyond to their backyard gazeebo where there’s nothing but several rocking chairs and good memories. Nick foregoes the rocking chair and gazebo altogether and jogs out into the field a little further before he gives a deep sigh and falls back into the tall, uncut grass. Judy is more the willing to meet him and she smiles as her eyes drift up to the sky, littered with stars.

“I gotta tell you, Carrots,” Nick says, voice awed, as she gets comfy in the grass. “That window view back at the hospital is nice and all but _this,”_ he gestures to the large expanse of clear sky, “Really takes the cake.”

“Gideon’s entire wedding cake?”

“Gideon’s _entire_ wedding cake,” Nick agrees with a chuckle. “It’s really something out here. No wonder you like it.”

Judy hums and lays her arms across her chest. “Thanks for coming out here.”

“No, thank _you,”_ Nick tells her. “Do you know how fun it was to race all the way over here with sirens blazing nonstop?”

“But really,” she presses, trying to be serious. “You’ve done so much for me and you didn’t have to. I really appreciate it.”

Nick breaths heavily out of his nose. “Well, you’ve grown on me. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

“Anything?” Judy smiles, feeling playful. “Would you….take a bullet for me?”

“As long as it didn’t kill me, sure.”

She laughs. “What if it _did_ kill you?”

“My ghost would haunt your ass and I’d make sure you dropped your precious deacaf every morning in shock.”

“But would you regret it? The bullet, not the coffee.”

“Nah. You’d be safe. And, it’d be pretty sweet to be a ghost.”

Judy rolls in the grass and reaches blindly for his hand. “Would you…marry me?”

“Only if you marry me first.”

“That doesn’t make sense!” she laughs and it feels so good to laugh. “Okay how about this: would you let me move in with you?”

He sits up in the grass for that one. Judy can’t really see his face, but his eyes glow just a little in the moonlight—it reminds her of fireflies. “I suspect this one is a serious offer.”

“Well?” She’s just a little nervous and thankful for the cover of night so he can’t see her stupid nervous face. “You think you could make that tiny little study into a make-shift bedroom?”

She gives a surprised squeak when Nick leans over and jostles her closer to give her a hug. “That sounds perfect, Fluff. Welcome aboard.”

“It’s just that I don’t want to be alone—“

“You don’t have to explain it to me. I’m just happy to have you.”

Judy relaxes into his touch as she looks back up at the stars.  While she can’t remember every constellation her father pointed out to her, she recognizes quite a few: the Warrior Bunny, the Pirate Fox and of course, The Three Bears.

She sighs, but it doesn’t feel like such a burden.

“I finally read that crime book you gave me.”

“It’s about time, Hopps.” Nick scoffs. “You know, it’s rude not to use a gift, especially after I spent so much time researching and _selecting-“_

Judy tosses him a silly grin that goes unseen in the darkness. “It has Bogo’s name in it.”

“—yeah well, I still dropped it off. Did you like it?”

“I only got halfway through it. It’s pretty good so far.”

“So I’ve heard. It’s one of Bogo’s recent favorites.”

She fake gasps. “Bogo _reads_?”

Nick plays along. “Reads, eats, even has a reflection like the rest of us. Trust me, I’ve checked.”

Images of Nick trying to get Bogo to stand in front of a mirror among a dozen other silly tasks has Judy fighting off a fit of giggles. “I miss him,” she barely manages to admit in her laughter.

The grass rustles as Nick moves. His nose brushes against her ear. “Bogo?”

“Him, Clawhauser, everyone: I miss all of it,” Judy admits and it feels good to say it out loud. “I’ve been limited for so long….” She trails off and looks back up at the stars, trying to connect them in a new picture she’s never made before. “I can go back now. And at first, I didn’t know if I wanted to—but after I came here and saw Clover…I miss helping, Nick.”

Nick reaches up and strokes her ear, waiting.

“Do you think I can do it?” Judy blurts out. “Regardless of how much I want it. Do you think I _can_?”

He barks out a great big laugh and turns over on the grass, splaying out with a thud. “Hah! Do you _hear_ yourself?” She can hear him grinning. “The only reason you became a cop is because you _wanted it._ You wanted it so bad Judy. It’s why you worked so hard and pulled it off. So yeah, I think if you wanted to come back to work you could.”

“But it’s not the same. I’m,” she fumbles to put it in words and in the end, she can’t. “….Nick, I’m not the same-“

“So what?” He shrugs. “So what if you’re not the same? I’m not the same, either. It doesn’t matter—you’re still you. You’re still what makes Judy Hopps great, even if she’s a little more…jittery, or whatever you want to label it. Look.” He leans back up, propping his head up with one arm. “What happened to Clover? It could have happened to anyone. It could have happened to Billy, or Sally, or Andy—“

“—how many of my siblings do you actually remember—“

“My point is,” he says, unwilling to be interrupted. “It could have happened to you. My point _is:_ shit happens. You can get hurt doing something you love and you can just as easily get hurt doing something you _hate_.”

He’s right. Nick’s right.

“You can do anything you want,” Nick tells her, whispering like he still can’t believe it himself. “There aren’t a lot of folks like you. God, Judy: you really can do anything. Nothing has stopped you from doing want you’ve always wanted to do. So if it’s the florist thing? Be the best damn florist in town. If it’s farming? Harvest more carrots than any other bunny in the tri-burrows. And it it’s a cop? Come back. It won’t take too long for you to catch up to speed to be one of the best once more.”

Judy stares up at the sky, her realization as dazzling as the stars.

If she wants to be a cop again, _she can._

What’s happened to her, it’s just another obstacle, and she’s already hurdled over dozens of those. Just because this one is a little more unfamiliar and a lot more difficult doesn’t mean she can’t get past it.

If she wants to be a cop again, she can.

“You know what?” She finally says.

Nick waits.

“….Now that I think about it, selling flowers can be kinda boring.”

She’s tackled into the grass when Nick rolls them into a hug, whooping and hollering with joy.

And as she hugs him back, her own laughter mixing with his, she starts to think of all the things she has to do back in Zootopia before she feels she can deserve that badge again.

It might take a while, but she’s ready for the challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay definitely two more chapters but idk how long they will be. Probably as long as this one or longer. 
> 
> @ the person who menioned the Grizzham pun....nice :). Wish I thought of that lmao.
> 
> Thanks guys, hope you enjoy!


	12. part twelve

The next morning (The 4:30 am kind because _someone_ needs to be back in Zootopia by 8:00) Judy offers to drive the cruiser back but Nick sourly points out, a large mug of coffee in his hand, that she’s not an officer _currently_ and while he wanted nothing more than to let her drive the damn thing, there were these things called _felonies_ that he’s obligated to prevent.

So Judy chatters endlessly away in the passenger’s seat and switches between doing things like reading her favorite posts off twitter or cheating at magic tricks since he can’t watch her completely on account of his need to pay attention to the road. Nick’s tired, she knows that, and eventually he just turns the volume knob on the radio up just a _wee_ bit and she gets the hint. So she settles in the passenger’s side and watches the landscape fly by in silence.

Nick gets back to Zootopia just in time to make it to his morning meeting, but there’s no time to spare to drop her off back at his apartment. “Don’t worry,” she promises him. “I’ve got stuff I need to take care of.”

He’s still a little bleary-eyed, and Judy thinks she sees him stifling a yawn. “Okay,” he mumbles, giving her nose a tweak. “I’ll catch you on the flip side.”

They part ways and Judy heads straight for her apartment complex, only taking a detour at the bank before she gets there. She’s got her apartment key on her key ring, ready and in her hand for return. As she climbs the steps to her complex she can already hear her old neighbors; at least she thinks she does. Maybe it’s only wishful thinking for her last trip here.

The landlady’s office is as small and shabby as all the other rooms; the only difference is that the door says _Management_ in somewhat new lettering across the stretch of it. Judy knocks twice before the door rips open and her landlady looks up at her, squinting through thick-lensed glasses.

“Ah, Judy.” She looks her up and down. “You’re back. Come in, come in.”

Judy slips through the door, already holding out her key. “I’d like to terminate my lease?” she says. “I know that I have another two months, but I’m willing to pay it if I can just—“

“No need,” she stops her. “Everything’s paid for.”

Now Judy’s the one squinting, her out of sheer confusion. When she was hospitalized, Judy made arrangements to have her father withdrawal from her First Burrows Bank saving account back home to keep paying her rent. But she never paid for the next two months.

“Who paid for it?” Judy asks.

“Don’t know,” the landlady says, “A whole bunch of them. Your police friends. They all chipped in, according to them. Enough to pay to the end of your lease.” She hands her an envelope. “Folks been stopping by left and right from that station to make sure you kept this apartment.”

Her heart is simultaneously swelling with love and aching with embarrassment. Her rent is by no means that expensive compared to other apartment complexes, but she can’t believe that her co-workers would all chip in to do something like that. She doesn’t like to accept the help but the fact that they would do that for her warms her heart.

“Anyway,” the landlady grunts, “…you don’t have to pay the two months’ rent. But you aren’t getting your deposit back. Here,” she taps the envelope in Judy's hand. "Is the leftover rent money. Take it. I don’t feel right keeping it.”

“Oh, thank you,” Judy whispers, reaching for the envelope. She carefully tucks it in the bottom of her bag. “So, uh, I’ll just get my stuff and—“

“That fox friend of yours took it,” she waves her off. “Long time ago. There’s nothing in your room, you did not have many things. You can go.”

She nods and turns around to leave when her landlady clears her throat and says one last thing:

“You were a good tenant. I hope you enjoy your new home. Goodbye.”

“Thanks,” Judy gives her a smile, gaining what might be the first one from her landlady in return.

Judy takes a much slower pace back to the station for a reason she can't completely own up to. It isn’t until she’s through the front glass doors does she remember that the last time she saw any of her co-workers was that time she flipped on them when they tried to visit her in the hospital.

She hopes none of them are upset with her.

Clawhauser is busy at the front desk talking with someone—a raccoon trying to leave some valuables he found in a public park—so Judy stays behind and waits. It’s well worth it when Clawhauser doesn’t even blink when he greets her.

“Sorry Judy, we’ve been unusually swamped today. What can I—JUDY!”

Her friend has never been the fastest cheetah on the block, but boy did he fly when he jumped over his desk to give her a hug. Her laughter is nothing more than a squeak as he hugs the living daylights out of her, picking her up and twirling her side to side.

It doesn’t last long; there’s a great gasp and then Clawhauser is setting her down as carefully as possible, his eyes wide with worry. “I am so sorry,” he apologizes. “I was so excited to see you I totally forgot…”

Judy shakes her head. “Aw, it’s okay! I’m not hurt anymore, see? You didn’t break me.”

But when Clawhauser doesn’t look relieved, she realizes that’s not what he meant.

“Oh,” she breathes softly, suddenly feeling like a small, dumb bunny. While Clawhauser’s and her other co-worker’s presence had been overwhelming, it’s different now. Her jaw isn’t wired shut, she’s not in pain, she doesn’t feel trapped or useless. She can fight and live for herself, and she doesn’t feel any need to be afraid of her friends, no matter how much bigger they are than her. “Hey,” she whispers. “Look at me?”

He does, eyes sad, and waits.

“I missed you,” she says, a slow smile blooming on her face. “Think I can get another hug? I don’t think one is enough.”

Clawhauser lets out a little sniffle before he hugs her again, this time much more gentle. “I am so sorry, Judy.”

“Don’t be, it’s alright.”

“I keep thinking back to that day: I—we—never meant to scare you, please know that.”

“Of course not, I know that.”

“I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” and she pulls back, looking at him with a wide grin. “So. Think you can help me with something?”

Clawhauser looks _elated._ “Absolutely! What do you need?”

Judy glances back at the phone on his desk. “Call records and get them to pull the Bernard case file for me.”

He winces, hissing with uncertainty. “Oooh, no can do, Judy. That one has special clearance that even I don’t have.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms in annoyance. “What for? Because it’s about _me?”_

“Probably,” Clawhauser admits, heading back to his chair behind his desk. Judy hops up on the counter and sits. “All the officers here wanted to look at it, back before we could identify the attacker’s background and whether or not he had connections to a greater hate or crime organization. Chief was afraid pictures and evidence might get leaked to the media, even if it wasn’t on purpose.” He slurps loudly on some smoothie from a shop down the street. “Only Bogo can pull the file.”

“No matter,” Judy announces, hopping off the counter again. “I was just about to see him. Is he free after the morning meeting?”

“Should be.” But Clawhauser looks distracted. “Judy what do you want with the Bernard file?”

She starts jogging up to Bogo’s office, ignoring his question. “Thanks for all the help, Clawhauser! It was nice seeing you!”

“Judy? Judy! JUDY!”

 

* * *

 

She stops jogging once she gets out of Clawhauser’s sight and takes a leisurely stroll to Bogo’s office just to make sure he’s there when she knocks. After three, sturdy knocks to his door, she hears him say:

“Come in, Hopps.”

Judy opens the door with a pout. “How’d you know it was me?”

He’s got his glasses on, reading a file; he doesn’t bother to look up. “I heard Clawhauser shouting your name. The whole precinct heard.” Now he does look up, and Judy is mildly surprised to see him giving her a _glimpse_ of a smile. “What can I do for you today?”

“I came to return your book.” She reaches into her bag and sets the novel on his desk.

Bogo stares at it before he finally says. “Keep it. What else do you need?”

“Two things,” Judy blurts out as she stuff the book back on her bag. “First, I need to schedule a physical fitness exam for a few weeks from now.”

Bogo looks at her with a level gaze, and she has a hard time reading his emotions, as usual. “Are you saying that you’re ready to come back to work?”

She’s thought of this answer carefully on the car ride here. “I’m saying I’m ready to _prepare_ to come back to work.”

“Agreed,” Bogo says smoothly. “Your injuries will require you to retake the fitness exam as you already know.” He fiddles with his glasses in a way that reminds Judy of Dr. Manor. “I’m not worried about that.  But due to your circumstances, you also need a psychological evaluation.”

Judy blinks. “Uh, okay?” she shrugs. “I’m already in therapy, and I’m taking—“

“I’m aware. You don’t have to disclose any more personal details on the matter. It’s a few forms, I can give them to you and have your doctor fill them out.” He pulls back from his desk and sifts through one of his drawers. “I’m not concerned about that either.”

“I am.”

Bogo looks up.

“Uh, what I mean is,” she backtracks. “I’m a lot better, and I think I’ll uh, get better, I’m sure I will. It’s just…I think I need to do something before I get approved for duty again.” She sighs, eyes fluttering shut. “And I need your help.”

The chief waits.

“I need…” she sighs once more. “Can you tell me about the Bernard case? My case? Specifically…Bernard himself?”

He looks at her with yet another indecipherable expression before he finally says, “Ask your questions.”

She straightens, tugging the lapels of her blue plaid shirt down. “Right! Has he been sentenced?”

“Yes,” Bogo answers immediately, but doesn’t elaborate.

“Did they rule him _non compos mentis_ like they had anticipated? _”_

“Yes,” he says with the same inflection.

She's been thinking about this ever since her co-workers mentioned it, every time she saw Nick dance around the idea when he'd mention a glimpse of her case. "So he doesn't even realize what he did, right?"

Bogo doesn't answer that. He deflects with another fact. “His is currently residing in a mental institution, where he will remain for the rest of sentence.”

Judy hesitates with the next part for just a moment. “Mental institution? Those are easier to visit than a jail, right?”

Bogo finally looks surprised. “Hopps—“

“I want to talk to him. If possible.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Well that’s okay, because I am.”

He continues to stare at her.

“I need to do this,” she whispers. “I need to talk to him. It’ll help. Please? Can you find a way to let me visit him?”

Bogo sighs, cradling his head with his hoof. “You’re not even my employee and you’re still giving me a headache.”

Judy grins, bouncing on her heels. “So…is that a yes?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he gruffs, reaching for his phone. “I should have fired you when I had the chance.”

Judy giggles and this time his smile is a little easier to spot.

 

* * *

 

Bogo ends up releasing all the information on Bernard to her the day before she’s scheduled to meet up with him.

Keeping it away from Nick isn’t tricky; he knows that she’s doing her own thing to try and get back to work so he leaves her be. If he sees the files she’s not sure what he’ll say—he’s supportive, but even Nick might try to understandably talk her out of meeting with her attacker. It’s not the most conventional way of coping. Not everyone would, nor should have to, see their attacker, but this wasn’t an ordinary attack.

After looking at Bernard’s files, it’s clear he really is mentally unstable. After he was arrested he kept defending himself, explaining that he hadn’t attacked any _one_ , that he was only trying to stop the machines from getting him. He believed himself in danger in that electronics store: he believed the electronics were robots watching him, recoding him, waiting to attack him so he had attacked first.

Judy was small and assertive and making demands, and Bernard thought her one of them.

Later the hallucination had dissolved, and Bernard hadn’t remembered what he’d done.

Bogo says that he’s on medication and his delusions are less severe and less frequent—it’s possible to sit down and talk to him. Bernard is aware of what he has done at this point and Judy is told he still is willing to meet with her.

A few days after her meeting with Bogo, Judy gives Officer Grizzwald a call and asks if he’d accompany her to the mental institution so she can see his brother. He’s reluctant, afraid to see the interaction between the two, but he agrees.

She asks him to meet with her at the electronics store before they head over.

He does, and he’s on time to the minute. Grizzwald finds her standing in front of the store’s new glass window, staring at the laptops they have up on display.

Judy speaks first. “Thank you.”

“F-for what?” Grizzwald swallows.

She looks up at him and smiles. “My landlady told me what you and everyone else down at the station did to keep my apartment. I have a lot of people to thank, but I’ll start with you: Thank you.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Grizzwald blushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “When we all chipped in it was only a few bucks each. No big deal.”

“No,” Judy counters. “Very big deal,” she looks back at the display and barely sees her reflection in her mirror: she sees the same rabbit, only a little more worn and weathered. It’s not a bad thing, she decides. “It means a lot that you’d do that for me, especially after I freaked out on you guys like I did.”

“That was our fault,” Grizzwald. “There were too much of us in a small room and we were _loud_ and….we should have known better.”

“It’s okay,” Judy smiles. “It’s no one’s fault, you know?”

She’s still staring at her reflection in the glass. “You don’t just mean that time in your room, do you?” Grizzwald asks.

Judy takes a deep breath, eyes roaming the display. “I’m not sure,” Judy admits because a part of her can’t understand and a part of her is still _hurt_ and she’s not strong enough to say that anyone is blameless, but she is strong enough to know the fear that comes with it isn’t worth holding on to, so she lets it go. Maybe that’s the same thing, maybe it’s not, but Judy resolves to stand on the concrete, feet away from the parking meter with a Judy-sized dent in it, and chooses not to be scared.

She looks back up at him. “I’ll have to figure that out myself, won’t I?”

 

* * *

 

Bernard is in restraints when they arrive.

The institution is nice: the visiting room is full of nice tables and chairs, complete with high windows with lots of plants that get lots of sunlight. It kinda reminds Judy of the lounge back at the hospital. Bernard is wearing something akin to scrubs (no zipper or buttons, nothing that he can use to hurt himself) and he looks nervous as his hands, cuffed to a table, tip tap on the tabletop.

She hates it.

A nurse pulls out a chair for her, but Judy doesn’t sit. Instead, she attempts to put on her best hard-assed, no-nonsense Bogo expression and flickers her eyes to the handcuffs.

“Miss, we decided that due to your circumstance, it’ll be best if we—“

Judy says nothing and waits.

She finally sits when they take the restraints off him.

Bernard speaks first. “Hello, Miss Hopps.”

She nods her greeting and doesn’t speak.

Her jaw is clenched, stuck together like it’s wired shut all over again. Her heart is running a marathon in her chest and she paws at the hole in her jeans, right at the knee, and remembers to _breathe._ But she doesn’t open her mouth.

This time, her silence is her choice.

“I’ve heard you’ve recovered,” Bernard says softly, so softly she would have thought him a small, tiny shrew if she wasn't looking at him with her own two eyes. His voice is gentle, not vicious. He won’t look her in the eye and Judy remembers to breathe.

She nods. Her silence is her choice.

At least, that’s what she tells herself.

“That’s great,” Bernard tries to smile, but it’s overridden with his own guilt, his own pain, his own _shame._ “I—“ he takes a shaky breath. “I’m not _right_ in the head all the time…” he trails off with a shudder.

Judy knows how that feels. Not completely, and not like him, but she knows in her own way.

It's why she's here, after all.

“I didn’t know,” Bernard chokes up, bringing a paw to his mouth. “I wouldn’t have—they have me on medicine for the hallucinations now and I…” He still won’t look at her. “I’m _so_ sorry, Miss.”

When it comes to interrogations, Nick’s always the one that could read animals, find their tells and figure out if they’re lying or telling the truth. Judy struggles _a lot_ with the sincerity of other animals but in this instance, with Bernard sitting in front of her, there’s no mistaking it.

Bernard didn’t mean to hurt her. He really, really didn’t mean to hurt her. She can see that. There are always going to be animals out there who are bigger than she is, who are stronger, who are  _meaner._ There are definitely animals out there who will cause her to get hurt again. Some won't do it on purpose, some  _will,_ but that's okay. She's always known that. Sure, it's been a hypothetical up until now but that doesn't mean she should quit. She just has to find a way to cope with it.

It's hard to forgive someone, and sometimes it's impossible. But in this instance—it's not. It shouldn't be. Yes, he caused her four months of hell but life goes on. And even if she didn't need to forgive him for herself—

—she can see that she needs to forgive Bernard for  _his sake._ He's a wreck. He feels awful.

_Because he didn't mean to._

And Judy lives to serve her community, even those who have hurt her. Bernard is no exception.

“I get confused sometimes,” he tells her over, and over again, “I’m so sorry. I get confused. I was just confused. I didn’t understand. I’m sorry.”

He clutches at his chest, like it’s _killing_ him, like it hurts to breathe, and Judy starts to feel the same sort of ache in her chest. His other paw bangs on the table with a pathetic thump as he cries.

She reaches out and grabs his fist with a warm, feather like touch.

And she speaks.

“It’s okay.”

Bernard bows his head and cries more.

She grips his fist tighter, and his paw relaxes.

He looks up at her and their eyes meet.

“It’s okay. It’s-”

It's not his fault, not really.

It's no one's fault.

She feels free.

She feels—

“—okay.”

  

* * *

 

And when she stops by the electronics store on her way back to Nick’s apartment, _her_ apartment, the dim light from the sunset makes it nearly impossible to see her reflection in the glass window but it doesn’t matter because she can see her watery smile and that’s enough—

“Yeah,” she says, feeling breathless as she sees herself _whole_ again, voice and all. “I’m good. I’m okay.”

She believes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm playing with fire here when it comes to the psychology of victims and PTSD symptoms but I tried to make the narrative clear that Judy's decision to meet up with her attacker was her own and suited her particular situation and definitely doesn't work with every person or situation. Does that make sense? Did I butcher that as well? Was this whole chapter a disgrace? I really hope not lmao.
> 
> The last chapter/epilogue of sorts is next! Gotta see Officer Hopps back in action, right? Cheers!


	13. part thirteen

Judy’s first day back at work isn’t really a day—it’s a night.

Bogo needs some officers to take a last minute night shift and Judy is more than ready; it’s been five months since she landed in the hospital and she’s itching to get back to do work. Nick isn’t thrilled with the idea of a double shift, but after Judy flashes him her best smile and promises him the biggest cup of coffee money can buy, he agrees.

“ _Okay_ ,” Nick tells her over the phone, the word muffled in his yawn. “ _Are you heading over now?”_

“Yep,” Judy tells him, fiddling with her badge for the umpteenth time as she navigates the central streets. “I just have to make a quick stop first.”

It’s _not_ a quick stop, but she tells herself it’s okay because Nick’s favorite hole-in-the-wall coffee shop is only a block down from the hospital and he’ll find it’ll be well worth her being 5 or 10 minutes late once he gets his favorite latte.

The hospital parking lot is full as always, but Judy notices there aren’t very many people in the halls or waiting rooms. There’s just three nurses roaming the halls that she doesn’t recognize, a sleeping zebra with her daughter, and—

“Judy.”

Dr. Manor.

He’s standing by the nurses’ station at the center of the floor, a clipboard in his hand; as she walks over to meet him, she sees a sense of wonder on his face, like he’s seen a ghost of a friend.

She gives him a wave as she stands beside him, rocking back and forth on her heels like she tends to do. “Hi, Dr. Manor.”

He reaches out for her paws and she allows it; he cups her paws around his and gives them a small shake. “Does this mean I get to call you an officer once more?”

“It does,” Judy whispers. Her smile feels watery, and she realizes it goes nicely with her slightly watering eyes.

He gives her paws a squeeze. “I’m very proud of you, Officer.”

“Thank you,” she whispers back. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“Oh, no,” he tells her, patting her hands once more. “Thank _you_ for not giving up on _me_.”

They don’t say another word after that. Judy lets her paws slip out of his and then he goes back to work, and so does she (or she will). She’s going back to work.

But she takes a detour to that same hospital lounge, just to catch the view one more time.

 

* * *

 

It takes five _months_ for Judy to recover and return to work, but it only takes five _minutes_ before she’s already stirring up some trouble.

She’s by their cubicle, helping Nick gather some papers to put in the cruiser before they go out on a patrol and listening to him smack after every sip of the coffee she got him. It takes all her strength not to giggle at the suspicious look on his face and it’s a struggle she loses when his eyes light up in realization.

_“Carrots,”_ he gasps dramatically. “Russ made this coffee.”

“That he did.”

“Which means you went all the way to _A Whole Latte Love_ to get this.”

“That I did.”

“Which means you must love _me_ a whole latte.”

“That I do. Bad puns and all.”

He takes another sip. “Blame the shop, not me.” He stares at the cup, twirling it in his hands before he looks at Judy, curious. “Have you ever had espresso?”

“Me?” Judy blinks. “Drink caffeine? Nu-uh. No way. I have enough trouble sleeping as it is.”

“I wonder what it would be like.” He hums, dancing the cup in front of her face.  “Want to make like scientists and experiment?”

She laughs. “Hypothesis: I’d end up in the hospital _again,_ after my heart explodes.”

“Rebuttal,” Nick clicks his tongue and downs another sip. “Hearts can’t explode. Not scientifically possible.”

“Well, they’ve never seen a bunny on caffeine then. It's possible. Trust me, I know.”

He squints at her. “Are you telling me that you know a bunny that died because his heart exploded after drinking too much caffeine?”

“I didn’t know him _personally_ ,” she emphasizes, “But it’s quite the popular tale back in Bunnyburrow. Ask around if you don’t believe me.”

“I don’t.” He shoves the coffee under her nose. “Try it.”

She smirks, pushing the drink away. “You just want to see how fast I’ll drive the cruiser.”

“I want to see that rabbit foot of yours jam that pedal into the floor boards just _once._ C’mon. Do it for your old pal Nick.”

“If _that_ happens we’ll both end up in the hospital, I can go ahead and tell you that.”

“Aha! So you admit you’re a bad driver?”

“If I was hyped up on caffeine, yes, I would be.”

Nick pats down his pockets. “Where’s that carrot pen when I need it…”

“That wasn’t a real confession! That was just a hypothetical.”

“It was good enough for me. Besides I don’t mind hospitals. They give you all the pudding you can eat.”

She eyes him up and down. “Yeah, I can see that.”

His smile is devious. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing,” she taunts, holding her paws up in surrender. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s not fat, it’s _fluff._ My winder coat is coming in.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It is. And it’s _gorgeous_.”

“Okay.”

He shoves the drink back her way. “Try it.”

Judy snags the cup and takes a sip. She pulls a face.

“Gimme that,” Nick scoffs, yanking the cup away before she can say anything. “You don’t deserve it anyway.”

She says something anyway. “You have horrible taste.”

“The _slander.”_

“It’s true. I’ve seen your wardrobe.”

“Okay, look my shirts are silk and they are—holy shit, your foot is already thumping.”

“I told you. Caffeine.”

“….I might have made a mistake.”

“Wilde. Hopps.”

They both snap their heads up to see Chief Bogo giving them a disinterested glare.

Bogo sighs. “Perhaps you guys would like to stop chit-chatting and get a move on. I need you out on patrol and—“ suddenly, he stops short, adjusting his glasses and leaning down to squint at both of them. “Hopps. Wilde.”

“Yes?” they both say, simultaneously.

“Why are your nametags switched?”

Nick groans. Judy cheers.

“Aha!”

“Damn it.”

“You owe me twenty bucks, _Hopps.”_

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Rub it in, _Wilde_. Rub it in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done!!!! I know this wasn't very long, but I at least wanted to give you a /taste/ of Judy's life back in uniform. Even if it's only her first five minutes haha!
> 
> Thanks for everything guys, hope you liked it!


End file.
